More Human Than Human
by Kirsi Wynn
Summary: Dean runs into an old flame, a crossbow-wielding hunter who catches Castiel's eye and helps the boys save humanity from yet another crisis.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"You see him?" Dean asked without looking up. His fingers deftly fed seven bullets into the magazine of his nickel-plated 1911 from muscle memory.

Sam scanned the shipping yard through an old pair of binoculars they had gotten from Bobby years ago.

"Yeah," Sam's trained eyes spotted the shady figure moving almost indistinctly through barely noticeable shadows. "I got him."

Dean slammed the clip into the butt of his weapon and pulled back the slide, releasing it with little effort, loading a bullet into the chamber. Guns were no use against vampires, but as far as Dean was concerned, the more ammunition, the better.

The brothers stepped out of the front seat of the Impala and tapped the doors quietly shut so as not to alert their prey to their presence. Castiel stepped out of the back seat.

"Cas, you really don't have to come along on an everyday vamp hunt," Sam said, eyebrows raised. "We can handle it."

"I know," Cas replied innocently, lips turned upward, eyes wide. "I just thought we could spend some quality time together." He looked from Sam to Dean. "Hang out."

Sam and Dean shared an exasperated glance. Dean licked his lips.

"Sure, Cas." Dean grabbed his keys and crossed to the trunk of the Impala. He reached inside and chose a machete. "Here."

He held the machete toward Cas and closed the trunk gingerly. He stared at it as if he didn't know what it was.

"Dean," Sam whispered.

"Hmm?"

"He's an angel."

"So?"

"So, he doesn't need a knife to kill a vampire."

"Yes," Cas agreed. "In fact, I can go …"

"Oh, come on, Cas, don't be a buzz kill," Dean whined.

"A bu- what?"

"A buzz kill. You use your mojo, it ruins the fun," Dean explained.

"Oh. Ok."

Again, Dean held the blade out for Case. This time, Cas took it. They made their way silently toward the shipping yard, three armed hunters on the prowl. As they approached the container closest to which Sam had seen the vamp, he motioned Dean to his left and Cas to his right. The men split up.

Dean couldn't see any signs of movement, not even moonlight reflecting on the containers; he couldn't hear any rustling, not even the slightest hint of wind, but he could sense something. The hairs on his neck stood on end. His muscles tensed. He felt uneasy. Like something was watching him. He continued moving, gun aimed forward, a hunting knife in his left hand, holding the gun steady, eyes darting left to right. Still nothing.

The container on his right was too still. Something was off. His hunter's sense told him the vamp was around the corner, lying in wait. But he was ready—ready to chop that vamp's head off.

As he rounded the corner a black cat hissed and ran. Dean started a little. His breathing sped up then slowed in relief. He sighed and lowered his gun from the tense, ready to fire position. He turned to start down the next aisle. That's when the vamp jumped him, fangs bared. The force knocked Dean into the container. Dean dropped both gun and knife to keep the fangs at bay.

_Whoosh_. _Ping_.

Within the blink of an eye, the vamp's head was fixed to the wall of the container with an arrow to the throat, which had missed piercing Dean's ear by scarcely half an inch. Dean hardly had time to react before Sam was running toward him yelling his name loudly. Castiel followed; he jogged behind Sam, soundlessly, eyes searching for the shooter.

"Who the Hell did that?" Sam asked, breathing heavily.

"I don't know," Dean replied, making his way out from behind and under the vampire's body. He finished the decapitation.

Castiel frowned deeply and stared into the distance beyond Sam and Dean in the direction from which the vampire had attacked.

"What is it, Cas?" Sam asked.

_Flutter of wings._

Cas was gone.

"Cas? … Cas!"

"I hate it when he does that!" Dean griped.

"OVER HERE!" Cas's voice echoed from a distance.

* * *

Cas's voice had come from just outside the shipping yard. Dean and Sam ran at a full sprint. When they arrived, they saw a peculiar sight: Castiel and a woman were staring at each other in complete silence. The woman—who was lean but curvy and dressed in tight black pants and a black tank top—held a crossbow that had been broken in half. Her back remained to Sam and Dean, but it was clear that her eyes were locked with Cas's. Cas, meanwhile, sported a dopey smile and appeared to be stumbling over an apology.

"Um, this is yours," Cas handed the woman an arrow. She snatched it from his hand.

The unceremonious sliding of the boys' boots in the gravel caught the attention of the wavy-haired brunette; she turned to look. Now, it was Dean's turn to sport the stupid grin.

"Evie," he said through a huge toothy smile.

Sam's head snapped from Evie and Cas to his brother. His mouth opened then closed. His brow raised then furrowed. His face couldn't decide what the appropriate reaction should be.

Evie's somewhat bemused expression immediately disappeared upon seeing Dean.

"Dean Winchester," she said with a hint of disdain.

Dean started to move toward Evie, possibly for a hug, a kiss … after all, they had a history. But Evie glowered Dean's grin right off his face. He stopped short.

"What an unpleasant surprise," she finished.

"You two know each other?" Sam asked Dean.

"You must be Sam," Evie said.

"Uh, yeah," Sam acknowledged.

"Who's your friend?" Evie asked, pointing toward Cas with the one intact arrow she had left—the one she had shot directly at the hot man thing in the trench coat.

She wasn't making any sudden moves. She had fired at arrow at this guy's head from 10 feet away, and he was still standing. He had caught the arrow with one hand, grabbed the bow from her and broke it in twain with his other hand like it was nothing. The fact that he was working with Dean Winchester eased her concerns a little, but she still needed to know what she was dealing with.

"This is Cas,"Dean said. "Cas … Evelyn Foster. Evie … Cas."

Cas stuck out his hand. He had seen humans do it as a form of greeting. Evie grasped it; she had a firm handshake for a woman. She tried to release Cas's hand, but Cas held on.

"I am Castiel, angel of the Lord," he managed as he continued to gaze into her eyes, grinning stupidly.

"Angel?"

"Yes," he replied, still holding her hand.

"Like an … angel?"

"Yes."

"Oh. That's new," Evie said.

"Um, so, Evie … what do you do?" Cas smiled nervously.

"…. I'm a hunter," she said, flatly, "Remember, I tried to kill you?"

"Of … Of course," Cas said. He opened his mouth to make another attempt at conversation, even though he had no idea what he would say. It was hard to think around this woman.

"Cas," Dean said tersely.

Cas quickly released Evie's hand.

"So …" Evie talked to Sam and Dean, while Castiel gazed at her awkwardly – normally this kind of thing would make her uncomfortable, so uncomfortable she might have to assault somebody, but there was something special about this angel guy … he was hot, too. "Do we want to get rid of that body or …?"

* * *

Dean flipped the right turn signal of the Impala and pressed lightly on the brake. A partially lit "Vacancy" sign at the Motor Lodge beckoned. Less than a mile behind, Evie tapped the brake of her 1997 black Ford truck—well, it had been hers for two months, at least. She had hot-wired it in Missouri. She had chosen it over a sportier or more fuel-efficient car for one reason: the bed had a huge toolbox with a pad lock—the perfect place for weapons.

AC/DC's "Back in Black" blared from the Impala's speakers as Dean pulled the car into the parking lot. The windows were cracked and the rock music poured through the openings. Evie pulled the old truck into the spot to the right. "Back in Black" blasted from the truck's speakers, too. Evie and Dean caught eyes. Dean was still Dean, mouth open and head bobbing. He smiled and winked at Evie as he realized they were listening to the same song. Sam's face scrunched in a comical disbelief.

They both pulled keys from the ignitions of their respective vehicles at the same time. All went silent.

"I'll get the room," Dean said.

"OK," replied Sam. "I'll get the bags."

Evie reached into the truck to retrieve her bag, showing off her shapely rear. Her shirt raised in the back, creating a gap of smooth, milky flesh. Cas trotted around the car and appeared behind her.

"Evie," he called, eagerly. Her head tilted slightly to acknowledge him, but she didn't turn around. "Let me get your bag for you."

Evie stood upright, placing a duffle bag on the driver's seat. She tried not to reveal the coy grin tugging at her lips. She turned abruptly and tossed the keys to Cas.

"OK," she agreed. "Just don't go through my underwear."

She headed toward the poorly lit motel lobby without another word. Dean half smiled at Sam and mouthed "Oh, yeah." He followed Evie. As he watched her hips sway, Cas felt a very familiar feeling: bemusement; and a somewhat unfamiliar one: desire.

* * *

Evie confidently opened the glass door with the open sign in the window. The clerk—a mustached man of about forty five, wearing a blue plaid shirt and a jean jacket that perfectly matched the shade of his pants—hastily put down the latest copy of Juggs.

"Y'all need a room?" he asked, standing.

Dean beamed. "Yes."

Evie scowled and glared at Dean. The man had already grabbed a key off the wall. He placed a key attached to a large, red, plastic diamond featuring a white 9 on the counter.

"Uh, make that two."

"Oh," the clerk looked embarrassed. "Ok, then." He picked another key off the wall. Number 10.

"That'll be thirty, even. It's usually twenty per room, but on account of y'all might probably kiss and make up sometime tonight, I can discount one of the rooms a bit," he said through a thick country accent and pursed his lips and nodded in a knowing "Women!" look. Dean found this guy to be fairly amusing. Evie thought he was quite the opposite. He was still nodding at Dean as if they had some kind of brilliant inside joke as Evie snatched the Number 10 key off the counter and walked away. She brazenly shoved the door open with one outstretched hand.

Castiel and Sam waited by the vehicles with several bags on the ground. Cas was holding Evie's. She was annoyed at Dean, but she put on a pleasant face for him; he seemed so sweet. His face lit up when he saw her approach.

"Thanks," she said as she took her bag. She hesitated a moment, but couldn't think of anything else to say. She held up the key, showing the number to both of them. "Ten."

Just then, Dean loudly exited the lobby, opening the door with his back, laughing and pointing at the redneck inside. He was laughing, too. "Thanks, man!"

"Night, boys," Evie said, shortly. She walked to her room without another word, before Dean could arrive and try to hit on her again. She unlocked and opened the door, and quickly closed it and turned the deadbolt. She flicked on the light switch and leaned against the door. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, then out again. She had thought about Dean throughout the years; she had thought about being with him, and without him. Now, she remembered how much she enjoyed being without him.

* * *

Evie had followed her usual nightly routine. First, she hid a pistol under her pillow and propped a shotgun behind the door. Then she took a long, hot shower and changed into her favorite, soft cotton pajamas – a mismatched black tank top and pair of bum-grazing blue, striped shorts. Now, she was brushing her teeth and preparing to curl up with a good book … tonight it would be THE good book. She was a little ashamed to admit, even to herself, that she had never read the Bible cover to cover. She usually favored fiction; she could kill a good Stephen King in one night; but, tonight was different. Not only had she learned that angels were real, but she had met one. In person, or whatever.

She was still mulling it all over when she heard a light rap at the door. With the toothbrush closed between her lips, she quickly grabbed the .45 she had stashed under the pillow and moved toward the door. She positioned her thin form to use the door as a barrier, hiding the pistol behind her back as she turned the knob and slowly cracked the door.

She opened it just enough to peek at a shadowy Castiel.

Evie's face relaxed, morphing from caution to pleasant surprise, as she gazed upon Castiel's earnest face. He stared back from the shadows, a grin forming on his full lips – a grin that lifted his entire face, all the way to those big, puppy dog eyes.

"Hi," said Cas.

Evie opened the door wide, brandishing the pistol from behind her back. She smirked. It would have looked sexier without the toothbrush sticking out of the corner of her mouth. She thought she looked sexy. Luckily, so did Cas.

Evie realized the toothbrush was still in her mouth. She held up a finger. "Just a sec." She waved Cas in with the gun still in her hand. "Come in."

Cas slowly walked into the room as Evie crossed to the sink. She spit and quickly rinsed. She turned to see Cas standing awkwardly in the middle of the room and holding something fairly sizable behind his long, tan coat. Before Evie could ask what it was, Cas pulled out a heavy-looking, solid wood crossbow.

Evie's jaw dropped. She couldn't believe her eyes.

They stared at each other for several seconds, both in awe – she of the great work of art Cas had brought her, and he of her. This was a feeling Cas hadn't felt before. He had felt things when he was human, things he could only identify from description. He determined that he had felt attraction for April and probably more than a little "chemistry," as humans said, with Meg (in retrospect). But this was different. The depth of his emotions for April were superficial; for Meg, a bit more than that, but still in the shallow end of the pool.

Cas now felt as if he had waded into the deep end of the pool. And he found that he liked swimming.

"Um, thanks!" Evie expelled, a little louder than she intended. She inhaled, again, louder than she intended and reached out for the bow.

"Oh!" exclaimed Cas. "Of course." He placed the crossbow in Evie's outstretched hands, which gave way under the weight of this exquisite weapon.

Evie smiled. "Nice!" She eyed the bow intently, examining every crevice, every carved detail. Her smile changed a bit. "This is old," she said, never removing her eyes from the curves of her weapon.

"Yes," Cas volunteered happily. "It was carved by a man in Bulgaria in 1562."

"How did you find it?" Evie asked.

"I examined your last bow …" his head dropped a bit, shamefully. "And, I discovered that it bore a mark. It was the name of its maker. So, I followed it to Bulgaria, and listened."

"Listened?"

"To humans, yes. They led me to an old man in a tiny village. He was happy to make a new weapon for you, but I thought you would prefer an older model. This one had been in his family for centuries. Rumor has it that this particular crossbow was used to kill vampires."

Evie gave Cas a radiant smile. "That's fascinating."

Cas smiled and looked at the floor, feeling more feelings he wasn't used to. He thought this was embarrassment, but to his understanding, an embarrassed person didn't want attention. He, however, wanted Evie's attention. He loved seeing her eyes focused on him.

"So …" Evie began. She turned and gently placed the crossbow on the small round table. Its girth nearly covered the entire surface. "How did an angel of the Lord hook up with the brothers Winchester?"

"Well, it's a long story."

"I'd love to hear it."

Evie crossed the room and plopped down on the bed. She tapped a spot next to her, inviting the angel to sit.

Cas nervously accepted her invitation. As soon as he sat, Evie turned to face him, a bent leg the only barrier between them.

"Uh," Cas looked up at Evie. "Where should I start?"

"At the beginning, I guess," said Evie.

So, Cas started at the beginning. His beginning. He talked for hours about his creation, the beginning of time, his brothers and sisters in Heaven, his duty to watch the Earth. Throughout the tale, Evie watched him intently. At points, she smiled. Cas didn't notice Evie's increasing fatigue until he was halfway through the story of the Garden of Eden, and Evie nodded off. Cas stopped talking and silently observed Evie. She was propped against a pillow, her head leaning on her own shoulder. Even asleep she looked graceful and poised. Cas stood gingerly and pulled the little chain to turn off the lamp. Darkness covered them. He carefully picked up Evie's limp body and turned down the sheets. He placed her body underneath the covers with her head perfectly in the middle of the pillow and brushed a lock of hair off her forehead.

Evie's head turned toward Castiel's hand. She never woke up.

Cas sat on the end of the bed and watched Evie sleep. Under his watch she slept peacefully. A welcome change from the usual insomnia. She was having pleasant dreams. He stayed, silent and still as a statue, covered in shadow, for an hour.

* * *

Evie awoke at 7 AM and dressed quickly. She had never been much of a girly girl: She didn't wear makeup or use hair products, and perfume was something to be saved for rare occasions. Today was one of those rare occasions.

Four hard knocks on the door interrupted her last spritz. She gently placed the five-year-old bottle of flowery liquid atop a pile of clothing in her open duffle bag. Opening the door revealed Dean and Sam.

Dean smiled awkwardly at Evie, and Evie stared back.

"Uh, morning, Evie," Sam interjected, desperate to end the staring contest.

"Hey," Evie said blandly as she opened the door wider and moved aside.

Evie zipped her bloated duffle as the boys entered the room. She looked up and noticed she had forgotten a pair of black heels. She unzipped the bag and stuffed the shoes in. When she zipped the bag for the second time, it didn't completely close.

"You still have those?" Dean asked with a coy smile that faded quickly under Evie's icy glare.

_Flutter of wings._

"Cas!" Evie exclaimed with excitement.

Evie approached Cas quickly, gently touching his chest. She leaned in slightly.

"Where did you go last night?"

Dean butted in before Cas could answer. "Last night?"

Cas's eyes darted toward Dean.

"Cas brought me this!" Evie hefted the crossbow up off the table and proudly displayed it for Sam and Dean to see. She admired it again.

"So … You guys hungry?" Evie asked.

Dean just stared at her slack-jawed.

"Of course, you are," she said, with a slight cock of her head. She grabbed her duffle bag and brushed past Sam and Dean with ease.

Sam followed first. It took Dean a few seconds to break eye contact with Cas. Then, he followed, too. Cas tried to follow Dean, but Dean slammed the door in his face. "He must be upset about something," Cas thought, a little confused. He could have teleported through the door, but he decided to open it instead. If he was going to live on Earth, he should probably do things like a human. Stepping out, Cas saw a surprising sight: a sheriff's deputy in tan pants and a brown windbreaker was examining Evie's truck. The lights on his car were flashing red and blue.

Evie, Sam, and Dean walked swiftly, heads down, toward the Impala. Cas did his best to imitate them. When it came to human affairs, imitating Dean usually worked. The boys made sure to block the officer's view of Evie as best they could. No telling what a cop would do if he saw a 450-year-old crossbow. They offloaded Evie's things into the trunk with precise, almost-choreographed moves. The trunk was open and shut again in the blink of an eye. All four piled into the car, Dean in the driver's seat, Sam next to his brother, and Evie and Cas in the back. They pulled out of the parking lot just as the officer turned to walk back to his car to report the stolen truck and the massive amounts of weaponry in the toolbox.

* * *

"You're stealing cars now?" Dean looked at Evie in the rearview, judging.

Evie sighed and diverted her eyes. "I … might be wanted in a few states," she admitted. She met Dean's gaze and shrugged.

"Oh, OK," Dean started, sarcastically. "Thanks for letting us know."

"Hey, I didn't know how this was going to play out," she responded. Seeing the questions in Dean's eyes, she continued, "I mean, I didn't know if we were going to stick together or if you were going to bolt again."

That caught Dean off guard. His face relaxed and he sighed. This was not an argument he wanted to get into, especially now. He could feel Sam's judgmental glare burning into the side of his face and Evie's burning a hole in the rearview.

"OK. We'll drive until we're out of this county," he said with the leader's confidence he had grown accustomed to portraying. "Then, we'll stop for breakfast."

He glanced back at the mirror to see Evie's reaction. He caught her and Cas grinning at each other. He didn't like how this was playing out.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The roadside diner was probably Dean's favorite road staple: Killer breakfasts, delectable burgers, and of course, pie! Perhaps ironically, it was Evie's favorite, too, and for the exact same reasons. She and Dean were more alike than she preferred to admit. She remembered that about him.

"Mornin', folks," the waitress said as she approached the table with her pen poised on a clean sheet of her spiral notepad. She wore a simple brown uniform dress. It had the typical diner uniform collar and buttoned down the front. Her lap was covered by a white apron tied around her pudgy waist. She looked tired, not just as if she hadn't slept well the previous night, but like she was exhausted inside and out. "What can I get ya?"

Sam and Dean peered at Evie over their menus. Ladies first.

"I'll have one egg white, scrambled … toast … and a pancake, please," Evie ordered.

"Uh, I'll take the "Big Boy' breakfast," Dean said with a playful grin. He handed the 50-ish waitress his menu and grinned at Evie. She avoided eye contact and cleared her throat. Dean's smile quickly faded.

"I'll have the 'Waistline Watchers' omelet," said Sam, "and a cup of coffee."

"Can I get anyone else some coffee?" the tired waitress asked.

"Yes!" all four answered in unison.

"And, for you, honey?" the waitress looked disinterestedly at Cas.

"No," Cas said. "I'm fine, thank you."

"I'll be right back with your coffee," the waitress feigned a smile and quickly walked behind the counter to place their order.

"Since when do you drink?" Dean asked Cas.

"I just thought I'd try it," Cas said, glancing around the table. He received raised eyebrows from Sam and Dean.

"OK," Sam said. He revealed the newspaper he had picked up near the diner's entrance.

"So, listen to this …" Sam began. The waitress appeared with four mugs and a pot of coffee. She banged them carelessly onto the table and began to pour the steaming black liquid into the mug in front of Cas.

"You can leave the pot, sweetheart," Dean directed his most charming smile at the woman. She looked both complemented and offended at being called "sweetheart." She removed a handkerchief from the pocket in her apron, placed it on the table, and set the pot down. She wiped her hands on the hips of her dress and left.

"Lancaster … a few hours from here …Three people have gone missing in the last three days," Sam recited. "All brunettes in their 20s. One body was found in the woods, the other two are still missing."

"OK, so?" Dean asked, sipping his coffee.

"Get this: 'The body of twenty-seven year old Jessica Bright was found in an unusual state.' She was completely exsanguinated. Not a drop of her blood was found at the scene, at her home, or the bar where she was last seen. The local sheriff is quoted as saying 'I've never seen anything like it.'"

"Sounds vampy," Evie said, sipping her coffee.

The waitress arrived with all three plates balanced on her practiced arms. She set the food down on the table. "Anything else?" She was grinning coyly at Dean.

"Uh, no. We're great," Dean put on his charm again and stole a quick glance at her nametag. "Thanks, Irene."

"Well, y'all just let me know if you need anything," she flirted and backed away, still smiling at Dean.

"You still got it," Evie said sarcastically.

* * *

They arrived in Lancaster around noon. Or, to Dean: lunch time.

"Have we eaten yet?" Dean asked, as he guided the car slowly down the street with one wrist casually draped over the wheel.

Evie rolled her eyes a little. She didn't see it, but Sam rolled his eyes, too.

Cas's body felt fidgety. Riding in a car was so slow, so dull. For an angel riding in a car was like plucking out your hair, strand by strand.

"Aw, yeah," Dean said, smiling from one side of his mouth, with an extremely satisfied tone. He peered upward through the windshield at the sign of the restaurant he pulled the car in front of. Dean pulled out the key and the purr of the engine died. Dean was nearly giddy, barely able to contain his burger lust.

As Evie exited the car, she looked up at the name of the restaurant: Bubba's Burger Joint. Typical.

They discussed the plan over lunch. Dean insisted that everyone try the bacon cheeseburger. Cas and Evie did; Sam still ordered the healthiest sounding salad on the menu. Dean happily munched on his burger while Sam and Evie threw out ideas. Cas chewed thoughtfully, deconstructing individual ingredients. He tried to understand why Dean enjoyed these things so much. He couldn't quite wrap his taste buds around it. He personally preferred looking at Evie to eating.

"OK, according to their driver's licenses, the victims are all brunettes. They have brown hair and eyes, and weigh 120 pounds," said Sam, staring at the screen of his laptop. "And were all seen at the same bar the night before they were reported missing."

He paused, in thought. "We could scope out the bar."

"What if the vamp catches on?" Evie offered. "I doubt he wants to take on thr—four hunters. Right? … He'll bail before we get the drop on him." She froze, thinking. "We've got to bait him."

Dean stopped chewing. "No way!" he exclaimed through a huge bite. He threw his burger into the greasy paper-lined basket.

Realization crossed Sam's face. He started to shake his head "no," then said, "It's the only idea we've got."

"What are we talking about?" Cas hadn't realized he had been enjoying the burger. He had only heard bits and pieces of the conversation.

"I'll be the bait," Evie asserted.

* * *

They checked into a hotel a few blocks up the street. A hotel this time. With multiple floors and a breakfast buffet.

They paid for the last two rooms available: connecting rooms on the first floor.

After putting her bag in her room, Evie knocked on the door connecting the rooms. A few seconds later, Dean unlocked the chain and pulled the door open. Evie strolled through and plopped down casually on one of the two queen beds. She leaned back and propped herself up on her elbows.

Dean eyed Evie from head to toe, carefully tracing the curves of her hips. Cas and Sam helplessly did the same.

"What?" Evie smiled coyly. "You don't think I can catch a guy's attention, Dean?"

Dean laughed uncomfortably and averted his eyes from the longest relationship of his life. Well, except for that year with Lisa. For Dean, under other circumstances than saving the world and watching your brother take a nosedive into Lucifer's cage, two months with one woman was a long time. But, no time to walk down memory lane now. There was a job to do.

"I didn't mean …" Dean laughed uncomfortably again and shook his head. Just like old times.

"I've got the perfect dress," Evie smiled and hopped off the bed. "I'll get ready."

She sashayed through the connecting door, turning to look at the three men as she gingerly closed the door.

… An hour later … Dean lurked in the doorway peering through the cracked door at Evie. If anyone had seen him, they might have called the police to report a peeping Tom, but luckily for him, Sam was keeping Cas busy with a map or something. Dean wasn't sure. Evie slipped the slinky dress over her head. It poured over her curvy body and landed in just the right spot, the hem lightly grazing her upper thigh, her strong but feminine shoulders exposed. Dean couldn't have looked away if he'd wanted to, but he didn't want to.

Evie took one last glance in the mirror. She smirked slightly, spying Dean's creeping figure, muscles taut, jaw on the floor. She opened her compact and brushed a little blush across her cheekbones. She closed the compact and turned swiftly with the composure of an experienced hunter, even in 4-inch heels. Snatching her purse off the cheaply adorned motel bed, she sashayed toward him. Dean was so dazed that he didn't notice she had turned until she was already upon him. The door was suddenly wide open, and Evie and Dean were face to face, nothing between them but 100 percent cotton, thin silk, and words not spoken.

Dean gave it the good old college try (well, more of a Dean college try than a Sam college try), but he failed to control his eyes. They moved slowly from Evie's eyes down to her collarbones, over the perfect, perky curve of her breasts, down the … Evie's hand blocked his view. As if she'd done it before, she closed Dean's gaping mouth with two deft fingers under his chin. His eyes snapped back into place and locked into an embarrassed and uncomfortably long gaze with Evie. It couldn't have been longer than three seconds, but to Dean it felt like eternity.

Without breaking his gaze, Evie circle around Dean like only a vixen can. He felt her all over him, even after she breezed past him and into the next room where Sam and Cas waited.

"I think the best approach here is …" Sam's sentence trailed off as Evie approached.

Sam froze, standing next to the table where Cas sat. He held papers in his left hand and was talking with his right.

Cas rose slowly to his feet.

Evie stopped. She stood in a dingy, brown motel room, wearing a slinky, silken black dress and 4-inch strappy, black heels. Her curls hung in a perfect frame around her playful face, dusting her jawbone. She held a silver clutch in her right hand.

Sam and Cas both seemed to hold their breath. Evie's beautiful form left Sam speechless. Cas became unaware of the passage of time. Both men were transfixed.

Behind Evie, Dean looked like a mentally handicapped man trying to play charades, over-exaggerating every movement. First, he waved wildly above his head to get Sam and Cas's attention; then, he motioned frantically toward his chin in an upward motion, while pantomiming "Close your mouth!"

Sam, knowing his brother so well, caught on instantly and snapped out of his haze. He closed his mouth, and looked at Cas.

Cas looked at Sam, then back at Dean. "What?" he asked, touching his chin and then looking back at his hand. "Is there something on my face?"

Sam grit his teeth and looked at the nearest wall. Dean sighed deeply and looked at the floor. Cas looked from one brother to the next, then at Evie, who was avoiding eye contact in a desperate attempt to conceal the fact that she was beaming.

Evie got herself under control, though she was still feeling warm and fuzzy and very un-hunter-like on the inside.

"Let's go, boys," she said. "We've got a monster to catch."

* * *

"Right here!" Evie yelled. "Drop me off here!"

They were three blocks from the bar where all the victims were last seen. Dean quickly pulled over. He turned around to ask Evie why he was dropping her off three blocks away.

"If you're gonna be my backup for the monster, the monster can't see us together."

"Good thinking," Sam said.

They all exchanged assured looks. Everyone knew the plan.

"I'll be watching," Cas said. He and Evie shared a special look, then Cas disappeared in a flutter.

Evie stepped out onto the curb and swung the door shut. She winked at the brothers, then headed toward the bar. As the Impala pulled away, Dean stole a last longing look at Evie's strutting backside. Oh man, the way that dress clung to her waist, the hemline swinging from side to side, brushing against her thighs, barely covering her well-toned buns. And her legs were killer!

Evie grinned. She could see them both staring from the corner of her eye.

She walked down the dark street, playing her part well. She almost felt sorry for the vamp they were going to kill tonight. Almost.

* * *

Evie approached the bouncer at the door of "Short's Lounge." The round black man looked Evie up and down, then decided against asking for ID. He opened the door for her. Evie breezed through with the assuredness of a woman who was looking for something. To the bouncer she was just another hot piece. The place seemed to be teeming with gorgeous women lately.

Evie took a quick look around the well-appointed bar. The solid wood bar was to her left. There was blue neon mood lighting coming from behind the array of bottles. The walls were covered with framed photos of anyone even halfway famous posing with drinks in hand. Wainscoting rose from the floor to the middle of the wall. There were high top tables lining the walls and shorter tables in a larger area in the back past the bar, along with leather armchairs. Nice place. Small but nice. Nicer than the kind of place Evie usually found herself in.

She spotted Sam and Dean sitting with drinks in hand in the furthest corner. They had made it here quickly, or she had made it slowly. She was wearing heels, after all. Not her usual footwear. Sam had a beer, and Dean was sipping something brown in a glass. Whiskey, no ice, if Evie remembered correctly.

She moved to the bar, where several rather beautiful ladies were perched on stools talking up white collar men, getting free drinks, and flashing big pearly whites. It was all the same. High class lounge or working class dive. It was always the same game. Everyone always wanted something for free.

Evie found the one open barstool and carefully sat. She leaned in a bit, showing off her cleavage. The bartender, a perfectly manicured man, came to her immediately. Yep. Always the same. He looked intently in her eyes with that pretty boy seduction stare. If Evie was less experienced, a look like that might have worked. But she knew he was just trying really hard not to stare at her supple breasts. "Who wouldn't look at these?" Evie thought. "I'd look at these." She flashed a flirty smile.

"What can I do for you?" Mr. Manicure asked. He was a handsome man, but soft. He had soft hands.

Evie giggled. "Well … how about a vodka and cranberry juice … for now."

He flushed a little and smiled back. As he turned to make her drink, the front door opened and another perfectly manicured, soft-handed man walked in. Not a hair was out of place. But he wasn't like the rest of these suit-and-tie-wearing dandies. He wore a deep red button-down shirt under an old black leather jacket. He was tall, dark, and handsome … and his skin was pale. Paler than that of a businessman who hasn't seen the sun in a while.

It was him.

He scanned the bar, thoroughly checking out each and every female. His eyes settled on the single brunette in the silky black dress. As he approached, Evie uncrossed then crossed her legs. She suddenly felt his presence behind her and his breath on her ear: "Hi, there." He made the hair on her neck stand on end, but she put on her most charming air.

"Hi," she said in her duskiest voice. She met his eyes. They were so deep, but at the same time, hollow. She had never stared into a vampire's eyes before. It was uncomfortable.

The bartender delivered her drink. This time he was frowning at the man in the leather jacket. "Vodka and cranberry juice," he said through pursed lips.

"Please, allow me," said the man in the leather jacket. He pulled cash from a pocket inside the jacket and laid it on the bar without ever breaking eye contact with Evie. The bartender sighed, took the money, and turned back to the register. He had clearly lost this one.

"Thank you," Evie said.

"It's nothing," the vampire replied, smoothly. "My name is Adrian." He took her hand in his. It was ice cold.

"I'm … Melony," Evie said.

"What do you do, Melony?" he asked. He was charming but so distant.

"I'm … an interior designer," she replied.

"An interior designer? That's so interesting."

They talked for half an hour. During that half hour, five women walked past the pair, staring holes in the back of Evie's head. They were all trying desperately to get Adrian's attention. It was obvious, but he didn't seem to notice. He never took his eyes off Evie.

Sam and Dean watched from a distance, trying to act nonchalant.

"I don't like this," Dean said. He downed his third glass of whiskey in one gulp.

"Be patient, Dean," Sam said. "She's working him. We're here, Cas is watching. Let her do her thing."

Dean stayed quiet but his mind was racing. He didn't like this at all.

"You wanna get outta here?" Adrian asked Evie. He said it as if he didn't care one way or another, but Evie knew he was enjoying this.

"Sure." He again held his hand out, and she again took it. She hopped off the stool.

Adrian touched the small of her back, as Evie stole a glance over her shoulder. She met eyes with Dean just as he swallowed the last of his drink. He and Sam stood. Dean casually tossed a $20 on the table.

Adrian led Evie outside and said, "My place is right over there." He pointed a few blocks down the street. There were no buildings or lights in that direction.

Evie smiled. "Let's go."

She heard the door to the bar open, music and voices pouring out briefly, then suddenly cut off as the door closed.

She reached into her clutch, getting a hold of the syringe of dead man's blood. She grabbed Adrian's leather jacket and pulled him into an alley. Her back slammed against a brick wall. Adrian smiled, charmingly, then snarled. Pointy teeth lunged at Evie. As she plunged the syringe into his thigh, the boys rounded the corner, guns drawn, and Cas appeared just behind him. The vamp's eyes became unfocused and vacant in a moment of shock, then he crumpled into a heap at Evie's feet.

Dean holstered his gun in the waistband of his pants and rushed to Evie. He grabbed the disarmed vamp under his arms and dragged the body behind a nearby dumpster. Sam pulled a machete from his jacket. He approached quickly and took off the vamp's head in one sure motion.

Sam, Dean, Cas, and Evie stood in a circle around the headless corpse.

"OK," Dean said, looking up at Evie. "I'm impressed."

Evie smirked but only slightly.

_Footsteps._

They all turned in unison to see two men entering the alley from the street and two more approaching from the blackness of the alley. Carefully watching the approaching threat, Evie, Sam, and Dean all stood a little taller, a littler tenser. Evie reached behind her. Dean handed her a knife.

"Evening, fellas," Dean called out.

As each of the men glanced toward the crumpled heap next to the dumpster, they snarled, revealing their sharp vampire teeth.

"What is this, a vamp gang bang?" Evie asked incredulously.

All four vampires attacked at once. Each of the hunters took one – punching, stabbing, and slicing ferociously. Cas disappeared before his mark reached him. The vampire searched around, confused. Cas reappeared behind him and touched his head. A blinding white light shone from inside the vampire, oozing from every pour. His eyes burned out.

Evie had impaled her target on Dean's oversized knife, and it was currently biting at her face. Cas appeared behind it and incinerated it.

Sam beheaded his vampire. The head flew from the body and rolled several feet before it stopped.

Cas appeared behind Dean, who had backed his vampire up against the dumpster. He touched the vamp's forehead, and it was over.

The silence was deafening now that the fight was over.

"Well," Evie said, still breathing deeply and sweating slightly. "That was fun."

* * *

Dean pulled the car up to the curb in front of the alley. He reached into the trunk and came out with a roll of heavy-duty black trash bags.

Dean tore two bags off the roll and passed them to Sam and Cas. He tore one off for himself and looked at Evie, who was standing cross-armed against the all, watching. He bent down, picked up a head, and tossed it into the open bag. Once all the heads were bagged, they picked up the bodies and stacked them in the Impala's trunk.

Evie brought them the head-filled bags, holding them at arm's length.

They piled into the car and drove. Dean pulled off the road and stopped just past the city limits. They piled out of the car. All four looked down at the trunk.

"I'm not dressed for burying bodies," Evie said.

"Oh, well, do you want to sit and watch?" Dean asked sarcastically.

Evie reached in and grabbed the four bags with heads in them and a shovel. Cas, Sam, and Dean each grabbed a body and slung it over a shoulder.

It took nearly an hour to bury the corpses. After all, they only had one shovel. Sam and Dean took turns digging the graves while Evie stood back, barefoot, holding her shoes by a strap as one would hold a cigarette.

Cas looked around nervously. The Winchesters were brazen, not even worried that someone could drive by and see their car on the side of the road. That they might stop to see if everything was ok and catch the hunters in the act of burying beheaded corpses.

Dean patted the last big of toiled earth with the shovel.

"Done," he said. "Let's go."

Sam and Dean walked ahead, making their way through the thick woods to the car parked half a mile away. Cas and Evie stayed 10 feet behind. Cas walked next to her, closer than he would normally. He peered at her face in the moonlight: Stunning.

She noticed him staring at her and looked up from the ground, where she was carefully avoiding sticks and pinecones.

"You're a good hunter," he flattered.

Evie chuckled quietly. "Thanks," she said. "You're not so bad yourself."

Cas smiled and shook his head. "No, I'm no hunter."

Their conversation continued, flirty but sweet.

Dean heard Evie giggling and immediately scowled. Sam sensed the change in his brother's mood.

"What?" he asked.

"Listen to them back there," Dean said. "Like a couple of damn high school kids."

"So?" asked Sam. He looked at his brother's face, which was scowling and tense. Sam's mouth opened wide. "You're jealous."

Dean flashed a threatening look, then looked away, somewhat embarrassed.

"Dean," Sam reasoned. "You and Evie dated like 10 … 12 years ago, right? When I was at Stanford? And, I'm getting the sense that it didn't end well."

"So?" Dean asked, tersely.

"So, what did you expect?" Sam asked.

They saw the edge of the woods, the highway, and the car. "Forget it," Dean said angrily. His pace sped up, leaving Sam behind. Sam sighed as Evie and Cas approached, gently holding hands. Cas appeared happier than Sam had ever seen him, like he had finally gotten that stick out of his ass.

* * *

The Impala pulled into the parking lot of their hotel.

"Ugh, I need a shower," Evie said looking at the bottoms of her feet.

Dean stuffed French fries in his mouth. He didn't look at Evie or Cas as he practically barreled toward the hotel's entrance. Evie and Sam shared a confused looked. Evie just shrugged it off.

They walked down the hall together until they reached the last two rooms, the two closest to the emergency exit. The brothers and Evie went to their respective rooms. Dean invited Cas to their room before he had the chance to follow Evie.

"OK," Evie said, sparing a glance at the boys before going into her own room.

She tossed her shoes near the bed and undressed wearily, dropping little black garments in a trail to the bathroom. Now naked, she stared at her face in the mirror. Finally, she turned on the water and hopped into the shower. She stood under the hot running water, watching the dirt from her feet and ankles wash down the drain. She opened the tiny bottle of hotel shampoo, massaged it into her hair and closed her eyes. Nothing like a hot shower after a kill.

_Bump_.

She stopped. She heard a noise in her room. She cursed under her breath; she usually showered with a knife. She couldn't open her eyes because shampoo was dripping onto her face. She rinsed as quickly as she could and opened her eyes just in time to see a naked Dean stepping into the shower. He looked sexier than ever.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, not even bothering to cover herself. He had seen it all before anyway.

"I'm …" Dean started. His eyes struggled to hold eye contact, but eventually he failed. His eyes caressed Evie's naked form as water poured down her toned stomach.

"Dean!" Evie said.

His eyes shot to hers and smiled an exasperated, shy smile. Most girls would have already been on top of him by now, but Evie wasn't most girls. Dean's usual charms weren't working on her. Not this time.

"I just thought …" Dean explained.

"No."

"But …"

"No."

Most men would have given up and left quickly, but Dean wasn't most men. This might be his last chance, and he wanted her badly. He tried to start talking again, to convince Evie that they should be together, but she cut him off before he started.

"Dean, you have three seconds to get out," Evie stated calmly.

Dean's mouth opened but no words came out.

"One …"

Dean laughed nervously.

"Two …"

He realized too late that he was too late. Evie hit his eye with a powerful right hook. Dean, who had not been expecting that, fell onto the floor, taking the shower curtain with him.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, holding his face. "What happened to 'three'?"

"Out!" Evie commanded.

Dean stood and faced Evie, again smiling a nervous smile. He shyly covered his family jewels. Evie still stood under the showerhead, water running down her curves. She crossed her arms to show Dean she was serious.

He left the bathroom in a hurry and put on his clothes.

Evie went back to rinsing her hair. She heard the hotel room door slam. She shook her head, ginning slightly.

* * *

Sam and Cas were sharing periods of awkward silence sprinkled with even more-awkward conversation when the door suddenly swung open. Dean shot in, head down, and just as quickly closed the door. He headed straight for the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"When you gotta go, you gotta go," Sam chuckled. Sam shook his head and looked at the internet article he had pulled up on his laptop. Cas squinted in confused. Was Sam insinuating that Dean was experiencing some kind of gastric distress? He had said he was going to check out the buffet when he left the room earlier. Maybe he ate something that didn't agree with him.

The bathroom door opened slowly to reveal a bruised, puffy-faced Dean. His left eye was swollen shut. There was a fresh cut on his cheekbone. The whole ensemble was brought together by the colors: purple, blue, and solid black.

Cas's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"What the hell happened to you?" Sam asked.

Dean looked down at the floor, embarrassed, while dabbing at his gash with a once crisp white hotel towel.

"Somebody try to steal the last burger?" Sam asked.

"No, smart ass," Dean replied. "I took a little detour from the buffet."

"OK …" Sam said. "What could tempt Dean Winchester more than a late-night buffet?" After a few seconds, realization covered Sam's face. Cas looked from Dean to Sam, trying to understand the innuendo that was just under the surface.

"Dean," Sam started.

"We're not talking about it," Dean said.

"OK."

Cas was vaguely gazing into the distance, thinking: _What_, in fact, could tempt Dean more than food?

"Hey, Cas," Dean said suddenly. "Why don't you go hang out with your girlfriend, huh? I'm gonna get some shut eye."

"Of course," Cas replied.

"OK, then, see you in the morning," Dean said, pushing Cas out the door.

"I don't kno—" Cas mumbled.

"OK, bye," Dean snapped, slamming the door, literally inches from Cas's face.

Cas didn't spare much time to think about what had just happened. He was sure it wasn't a big deal. The Winchesters didn't have "regular people level" big deals, and whatever this was couldn't be a "Winchester level" big deal or someone would've been stabbed, shot, burned, or exorcised.

With that settled, Cas turned in the hallway. He knocked lightly on Evie's door. She opened it almost immediately, as if she had been standing at the door, waiting for him.

Cas and Evie stood before each other, hands by their sides. Evie's head tilted upward to meet Cas's gaze. Cas leaned in slowly. He parted his lips slightly. Their lips locked in a gentle kiss. Evie had kissed plenty of men in her life, but this kiss was unlike any she'd ever experienced. It melted her. She felt as if her temperature had risen 10 degrees. She burned for Cas.

Their lips parted, and their eyes met. Cas hesitated a moment, just to look at her beauty. This time, Evie leaned in for more. His strong hands held her face. He didn't want to stop.

Evie grabbed the lapel of Cas's trench coat and pulled him even closer. Cas's hands moved down Evie's neck and shoulders. His thumbs toyed with the straps of her top and bra.

Evie's hands slipped inside Cas's coat, then pushed it off his shoulders. Cas let the coat fall to the floor. His hands groped Evie's waist. He grabbed her tight thighs and picked her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Now, Cas felt as if his temperature was rising. This was a new sensation for him, and he liked it.

They fell onto the bed, their very beings melded into one. Their hands explored each other's bodies. Clothes were quickly removed and tossed aside.

Cas felt the desire build up inside him. He began to levitate, taking Evie with him. Soon he couldn't contain himself. All his power and magnetism built up; his vessel began to glow an indescribable hue of blue-white. If Cas had been able to think rationally at that moment, he might have been worried about Evie; that she might be afraid. But Evie wasn't afraid. She was turned on.

His lips felt soft but firm; gentle but dangerous. The nape of his neck, strong. His back, muscular, otherworldly. His hips, sure. His vessel began to tense. Cas's orgasm pushed their bodies forward, slamming Evie's back against the wall. A cheap framed print of a farmhouse fell to the floor and shattered. Cas was about to ask Evie if she was alright, but she dug her fingernails into his shoulders and pulled him closer. She was more than alright.

Evie began to orgasm. Cas broke their kiss and gazed into Evie's eyes. He had only ever seen one woman orgasm; it was fascinating, stirring. He concentrated so hard on the bliss in Evie's eyes, the shuttering of her body against his, the sounds of her moans, the feel of her breath against his parted lips, that he stopped levitating. They fell back on the bed. Evie landed on top of Cas. Breathing heavily, she gazed into his eyes. She had no words; neither did he. Their lips met again.

_Thump_.

* * *

"What the hell?" Dean said. He looked at his brother with a face Sam had seen a thousand times before – the sharpness of a hunter, no fear. But this time, there was a hint of concern. The loud thump had come from Evie's room.

The boys grabbed their guns and ran to Room 21, the room right next door to theirs. They stood silently outside the door for maybe two seconds, listening intently. They looked at each other; Dean nodded. Sam kicked in the door. The brothers aimed their guns at the threat they expected to find.

They saw a naked Castiel and Evie on the bed, in full embrace, Evie on top. Evie's body was fully exposed, with the exception of her breasts pressed against Cas's chest and her hip covered by Cas's hand. They both looked up as Sam and Dean entered the room – Evie gasped, but Cas smiled.

"Hey, guys!" Cas waved at his friends, exposing Evie's curvy bottom. Evie simply glared at Dean.

Finally, after a formidably long and awkward moment, Sam managed to blunder "Duh … I …" He stopped short and slammed the door.

He and Dean stood outside the closed door for a few seconds, both staring at the ugly, green hotel hallway carpet. Then, both looked up at the same time. Their eyes met. Their jaws stayed on the floor.

Neither of them spoke, but the same thought crossed their minds at exactly the same time. Almost like telepathy. "What the …?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Evie woke the next morning in Cas' arms. Although he didn't sleep, he chose to stay with her through the night, watching her sleep. He found it very peaceful.

She stretched a little and opened her eyes, craning her neck to look into his face. He looked down at her, smiling, and hugged her tightly.

"Mmmm," Evie sighed. "What time is it?"

"Eight o'clock," Cas replied.

"We'd better go," she said. "The boys'll be ready to hit the road soon."

"I wish we could stay here forever," Cas said.

Evie smiled up at him. "Well, I'm free tonight."

Cas grinned and moved in for a kiss. Their lips had barely met when there was a knock at the door. Evie closed her eyes and took a deep breath as Cas crossed the room, naked. He opened the door, barely hiding his privates behind it. Evie could just see Sam's embarrassed face though the crack.

She had to stifle laughter to hear the awkward mumbling and mention of breakfast. She rose and began to dress as soon as the door closed and was packed and ready to go five minutes later.

She and Cas walked out to the Impala, both glowing a little. Sam and Dean were waiting by the car. Sam seemed nervous, hands in his pockets, eyes looking anywhere but at the lovers. Dean, on the other hand, was too still, almost taut. He wouldn't look at Evie, but his eye contact with Cas was uncomfortably direct. Everyone else was too busy with someone or something else to notice, though: Cas with Evie, Evie with Cas, and Sam with his shoes, the trunk, a semi-interesting rock, or that pile of dog crap over there. What kind of dog had crapped that?

They all piled into the car. Dean pulled away from the motel after a long, hard look at Cas in the rearview.

* * *

They sat in a diner, again, eating breakfast, drinking coffee, reading the local newspaper. This time, they were in Pennsylvania.

"Two similar, accidental deaths … teenage girl texting her BFF, walked right into an open manhole," Sam read.

"OK, so she fell into the sewer. That'll break your leg, not kill ya," Dean said.

"Yeah, except she was electrocuted almost immediately after she landed," Sam said.

Dean frowned. "You said two deaths?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, clearing his throat. "The other is a 65-year-old man, who had a heart attack after receiving a text on his brand-new smart phone. The article said the text was explicit in nature."

"Hmm," Dean grunted, raising his eyebrows. "Maybe. … What about you two? Got anything?"

He looked up expectantly at Evie and Cas, who were grinning and giggling amongst themselves. Cas had a hand on Evie's leg under the table.

"Hey!" Dean rose his voice authoritatively. Evie and Cas both straightened up like children caught messing around in church.

"Oh, yeah," Evie cleared her throat and returned her attention to the newspaper in front of her. "Uh …" Evie scanned the stories again to find her spot. "Three bodies found highly decomposed, but their families and friends all said they were home until mere hours before the bodies were found."

"Weird," Sam asked.

"She wins," Dean said. "Let's finish up and get going to …"

"Jersey Shore, PA," Evie said.

"Jersey Shore! Ha!" Dean laughed. "Wonder if we'll run into a 'situation'?" Dean flashed a childish grin and waited for Sam and Evie to join him.

"Dean, it's not _that_ Jersey Shore," Sam said.

_Pause_.

"I know!" Dean said, now frowning.

* * *

Sam and Evie walked into the morgue and flashed FBI badges. The clerk at the front desk nearly cowered. The badge usually had that effect on people. The suits didn't hurt, either.

"We're here to see the bodies on the serial murder case," Sam said.

"Of course!" the clerk stammered. He hurried around to let Sam and Evie into the back of the morgue.

"Kent! Who are these people?" a confident female voice called from down the hall. A tall, thin woman with bright red hair in a bun, wearing scrubs and a lab coat approached the trio. She looked questioningly at Kent—a hunchbacked nerd wearing thick, black glasses—who froze.

"Agents Sambora and Wilson," Sam spoke up. He and Evie flashed their badges like pros. The woman eyed the badges more closely than most people did.

"Sambora and Wilson, huh?" she questioned. "You two rock groupies or something?"

"It's just a coincidence," Evie said. "Actually, a big joke back at headquarters."

"Uh huh," said the woman, obviously unimpressed.

"So, we're here to see the bodies on the serial murder case, Doctor…" Sam said.

"Harding," the woman answered. She pursed her lips and threw a glance at her watch. "You do realize it's quittin' time."

"Sorry, late flight," Evie said, feigning an apologetic smile.

"OK, come on," Harding said, making no attempt to hide her annoyance. She led Sam and Evie through the double doors down a hallway and into the cold storage room. She opened one of the lockers, pulled out the sliding tray, and unzipped the body bag.

"Body number two," she said, handing Sam the case file. "Hannah Jenkins, age 26. Campers found her by the river about a week ago."

"She's got to be several weeks decomposed, at least," Evie said calmly.

"Hair and nails falling out, skin cracked open and breaking down," Harding said. "My estimate was three to four weeks, taking into account the cooler temperatures lately."

Harding looked at her watch again. "Look, agents, it's 5:10 and I have a date at 6:00. I assume you know your way around a morgue," she said, eyes shifting between Sam and Evie. "Kent can see you out when you're done."

"Of course," Sam said. "Thank you, Doctor."

Sam and Evie turned back to the case file as the door swung shut behind Dr. Harding, who left in a hurry.

"This is nasty," Evie said.

"Yep," Sam agreed. "Let's check out the other one."

They put everything back where it belonged, and opened locker number 8.

"Haskell Jenkins, age 62, found three days ago, within one mile of Hannah Jenkins … his daughter," Sam read, as Evie unzipped the bag. They both examined the dead girl's face closely. "This one's fresh," Sam said, confused.

"So, we've got two bodies found highly decomposed and a fresh one? Weird," Evie said, zipping the bag. "Twenty bucks says body number one is related to the Jenkinses."

Sam opened the case file. "You owe me twenty bucks. Genevieve Summers, age 26, found a month ago, also in an advanced state of decomp, same area," Sam read.

Evie rolled her eyes, pulling a $20 bill from her pocket. "So what's the connection?" she asked.

"Maybe Dean and Cas can shed some light on that," Sam said. Sam pulled out his cell phone and held down number 2, Dean's speed dial. "Hey. Yeah, we're done here. OK. We'll see you back at the motel. K." He flipped the phone closed and put it back in his pocket. "Let's make copies of these and get going."

Evie started gathering the files.

"Hey, so, your FBI cover is Agent Wilson?" Sam asked with a grin.

"Yeah, why?" Evie said, stopping before heading toward the door.

"Ann, or Nancy?"

"Nancy," Evie said, grinning. "I guess Dean started me on the rock shout outs. Be right back, Agent _Sambora_."

Evie crossed to the office next door and copied the case files quickly and quietly. She returned in less than ninety seconds and replaced the files, then she and Sam left the morgue.

* * *

Dean handed Cas a forged FBI badge, the same one he had used several years ago: Eddie Moscone. Dean had held onto it.

"This time, hold it the right way," Dean said. "And, let me do the talking, OK?"

Cas didn't consider himself a sensitive fellow, but lately Dean seemed to be harsher toward him. He had studied human behavior for years, and he liked to think he had learned a bit. There seemed to be tension between Dean and Evie, probably because they used to date. Evie had briefly mentioned it, but Cas wasn't sure he wanted or needed to know much about their past relationship; all he needed to know was that she didn't seem interested in Dean anymore. She liked Cas now, and he liked her.

"Hey!" Dean called from across the street. "You coming, Colombo?"

Cas returned to reality and jogged across the street to meet Dean. They entered the sheriff's station and flashed their badges to the desk clerk. This time, Cas held his badge correctly. He was proud of himself. He looked over at Dean like a child looking for his big brother's approval, but Dean wasn't paying him any attention.

"You guys are here about the bodies, huh?" the clerk, who couldn't be a day over 20, asked. His nametag indicated that his name was Alec.

Dean stared at him, drawing out the awkward moment on purpose. "Yeah," he finally affirmed.

"Wicked, huh?" Alec said, impishly impressed. The look on his face brought to mind images of the metal head Alec probably thought he was.

"Yes, whoever committed these crimes must be truly amoral," Cas volunteered

"No, _Alec_, serial murder is not 'wicked!'" Dean chastised. "Where's the sheriff?"

"I'm Sheriff Bauer," said an overweight, graying man in his upper fifties. He wore a wide-brimmed tan hat that matched his long-sleeved, button-down shirt.

"Agents Anderson and Moscone," Dean said, as he and Cas again flashed their badges (correctly).

"Uh huh … Feds," Sheriff Bauer said with a hint of disdain. "Knew you guy would show up soon."

"Yeah, well, that happens when bodies are dropping like flies," Dean quipped.

"Look, Agent …" Sheriff Bauer began.

"Anderson," Dean finished arrogantly.

"Right," Bauer said. "We've got things under control here."

"Oh, you do?" Dean asked incredulously,

"That's right," said Sheriff Bauer, grasping his rodeo belt buckle as if it gave him superiority over this manicured, big-city slicker.

Both men stood a few inches taller as they eyed each other in stoic silence. Castel sensed a wordless competition between the two men. If the Sheriff was anything like Dean, this could continue for hours with neither man backing down.

"Gentlemen," Cas stepped in. "We're not here to step on anyone's toes, to use the colloquial phrase. We only want to help find out what happened to those poor people and stop whoever is committing these crimes."

The Sheriff eyed Castiel, hands still firmly holding his superior buckle. After a few seconds, his posture relaxed, and he released his hold on his pants. "Alright, Agent," he said, addressing Cas. "Case files are in my office." He set off in the direction he had come from. Dean shot a glance at Cas, brow furrowed. Cas shrugged, innocently, and turned to follow the Sheriff to his office.

* * *

"Wait. So you're saying the families were with each of the victims until just a few hours before the bodies were found in advanced stages of decomposition?" Dean asked skeptically.

"That's what they said," Sheriff Bauer said.

"You don't seem to believe them," Cas said.

"Who could?" he exclaimed. "Take Genny Summers. Doc Harding put her dead at least a month, maybe more, before they found her: a month ago. Her best friend, Hannah Jenkins …"

"Victim number two," Dean interjected.

"Yeah," Sheriff Bauer continued. "She swore up and down she and Genny were still hanging out, or whatever the kids call it these days, right up until the day those campers found her body in the woods."

"OK," Dean said. "Did she say anything about Genny acting strangely?"

"As a matter of fact, she did," the Sheriff said, with a hint of suspicion. "She said Genny was, and I quote 'acting like Genny on the surface, but she didn't talk like Genny did when we were alone. It was like she was pretending to be Genny.'"

"Not weird at all," Dean said. "What about Hannah?"

"Same story," the Sheriff said. "Hannah was still reporting to work until the day before her body was found. Her father, Haskell, the third victim, said she was acting strangely after the discovery of Genny's body, though."

"Strangely, how?" Cas asked.

"Well, these two girls were inseparable since they were little. Hell, everyone in town knew that," Sheriff Bauer said. "After Genny's body was found, Hannah didn't seem broken up about it. She was cold, callous. You'd have thought she was mad at Genny or something."

"Then, we found her body, decomposed like it had been there for weeks," Sheriff Bauer said. He sighed. "Then, three days ago, Haskell turns up dead in the woods."

"Let me guess … decomposed," Dean said.

"No, fresh kill, fresh dump," Sheriff Bauer said. "But, there is a weird part. Witnesses claim they saw Haskell walking and talking hours after his body had been found. We were still canvasing the scene, Doc Harding was still examining the body!"

"Are these witnesses reliable?" Dean asked.

"They're upstanding citizens, pillars of the community," Sheriff Bauer said. "No reason they'd make this up. It just don't make sense."

"What happened to Mr. Jenkins? The still walking and talking one?" Cas asked.

"After the story leaked about his body being found, he disappeared," said the Sheriff.

Dean's phone began to spew rock guitar riffs. "Excuse me," he said, walking to the wall for privacy.

"Yeah? Yeah, us, too. Sounds good."

Finishing his conversation with Sam, he walked back to where Cas was sitting quietly with the Sheriff.

"Sheriff, can we get copies of those files? We need to meet up with our team," Dean said.

"A whole team? For little old Jersey Shore?" Sheriff Bauer said.

"For a string of murders that makes no sense, Sheriff," Dean said.

"Yeah, alright," the Sheriff replied. "Alec!"

Alec came running from his perch at the front desk. "Alec, I need you to copy these files for the agents."

"Yes, sir!" Alec chirped, excitedly.

* * *

Sam and Evie walked through the door of Sam and Dean's motel room. Evie grasped two greasy paper bags full of fast-food burgers and fries. Sam balanced three large drinks in Styrofoam cups.

"Aw, that's what I'm talking about!" Dean exclaimed. He rose from the dingy, two-seater table near the far window and took a bag from Evie.

"So, the bodies are thoroughly nasty," Evie said. "Victims two and three are a father and daughter, but vic number one is …"

"Daughter's BFF," Dean mumbled through a mouthful of burger.

"There's your connection," Sam said to Evie. "But, why were the girls in advanced states of decomp and the last one fresh?"

"Maybe someone found Mr. Jenkins before they were meant to," Cas volunteered. Evie grinned at him and plopped down next to him on the bed, burger in her hands.

"Yeah, maybe, but how do we explain the fact that the vics were all seen around town right up until their bodies were found decomposed in the woods," Sam asked, befuddled.

"We thinking shifter?" Evie asked through a mouthful of burger.

"Could be," Sam agreed.

"A shifter serial killer?" Dean asked, with a grin.

"We've seen weirder," Sam stated flatly.

Dean shrugged in agreement. "OK, going on that assumption, where do we start? Everyone the shifter wore is dead."

"We interview the witnesses, gather information," Evie said. "Good old-fashioned police work."

* * *

"Thanks, Mr. Carmichael," Sam said, quickly turning away as Mr. Carmichael closed his front door. "Well, that's all of Haskell's friends. … I wonder how Evie and Cas are making out."

"Yeah, I bet they are."

"Dude, again with that?" Sam asked.

Dean shot Sam a sideways glance. "Shut up. Let's just meet up and compare notes."

They met Cas and Evie at a diner. When Sam and Dean arrived, Cas and Evie were already sitting in a booth in the back. They were smiling and talking quietly as if they were sharing secrets. They looked like a couple of school kids.

Dean rolled his eyes as he and Sam made their way to the booth.

"Hey," Sam interrupted the couple's moment.

Cas smiled broadly at the brothers, genuinely happy to see them.

"Hey. We interviewed Hannah and Genevieve's friends," Evie said as the boys sat down. "Pretty much the same crowd. Nothing weird that we could see. Just co-workers left."

Sam sighed audibly.

"I don't see this going anywhere," Dean said. "We're just spinning our wheels. With us sniffing around, the shifter's probably long gone by now, anyway. Hell, he was probably gone the day we rolled into town."

"You want to stop searching when there's a monster killing people?" Cas asked.

"You have a better idea? I'm all ears, Colombo," Dean said, not hiding his sarcasm.

Cas looked visibly hurt. Evie shot sour eyes at Dean.

"Evie, is there any other angle we can take, here?" Sam asked.

She was silent for a moment, clearly deep in thought. Then, her face lightened, her eyes widening, lips curling upward in a slight smile.

"You still like camping?" Evie asked Dean.

* * *

"Up ahead." Evie pointed straight ahead down a small embankment, closer to the water. "That's a nice place to dump a body."

"You know, it's a little creepy that you know that," Sam said.

"I was a cop, Sam," she said. "Besides, it's no creepier than the crap I know now."

"Yeah, I guess not," Sam admitted.

The quartet shuffled their way down the slope. Once near the stream, they split in three directions to canvas the area. Sam went north, Dean went south, Evie went east, and Cas followed Evie. She was closely examining a skinny tree where some twigs had apparently been broken; Cas was closely examining her face. Dean spotted this from several feet away.

"Hey, Cas! You wanna help?" Dean called rudely.

Cas's head snapped in Dean's direction. "Oh, yeah! Of course!" He trotted eagerly toward his best friend.

"Then, why don't start looking at the scenery," Dean said, indicating the surroundings with his eyes, "instead of _the_ _scenery_." He nodded at Evie.

"Ah," Cas nodded excitedly. He was happy to be in on something, even if it was only a play on words.

Their feet crunched on dull tan and brown leaves, twigs, and other underbrush as they searched for any signs of foul play.

"I don't know if we're looking in the right place," Sam said. "None of the other bodies were found this close to the stream."

Evie sighed. "Maybe not. It just looked like a good dump site."

"Let's go check closer to the rail line," Dean suggested. "Shifter could have dumped the body and hopped a train."

Now, it was Sam's turn to sigh. "Then, he could be anywhere."

They all started in that direction, following the stream, when something caught Evie's eye. She stopped. Sam, Dean, and Cas continued walking, not noticing that she was no longer following. She squatted, staring intently at a section of leaves that looked to a casual observer like any other pile of leaves in the miles of leaves covering the ground.

Evie's trained eyes spotted the tiniest discontinuity in the pattern: straight, thin, uniform lines amongst fat, curvy, blocks. Using the side of her hand, she gingerly brushed leaves aside. She brushed in one direction, creating a small pile directly under her squatting form. The straight, thin, uniform lines grew longer, redder, a warm color against the dead leaves. Eventually, those warm, red lines gave way to a cold, bloated mass.

Evie brushed leaves in the opposite direction, the edge of her hand grazing a tiny mountain under the leaves: a nose. The sea of leaves parted and revealed a face: the corpse of a woman with bright red hair.

Evie's breath caught in realization. She stood abruptly. "Guys!" she called loudly.

The boys were at least thirty feet ahead by now. They turned, startled.

"I got it!"

* * *

The Impala's engine revved as it sped past 80 miles per hour.

"Are you sure it's the coroner?" Dean asked. "It's not just some other chick with red hair?"

"Dean, I saw her face! I'm sure," Evie said.

"That's why she was so eager to get out of there," Sam reasoned.

"Let's hope she's still at the morgue," Dean said, gripping the wheel tightly. "We bust in, catch her by surprise, gank her … easy as pie."

"No, Dean, we can't just go in guns blazing," Sam said. "There's a clerk at the front desk."

"So, we distract him," Dean suggested.

"Sam and I will go in and test her with silver," Evie said. "They already know us. You two hold back."

Dean frowned, glancing at Cas. He didn't like the plan, but it made sense. "OK. We'll be right outside."

He pulled the car to a quick but semi-quiet stop and shut it down. Sam and Evie exited the car, opened the trunk, and removed what they needed, carefully hiding silver knives in the arms of their suit jackets, in addition to the weapons they already carried. They closed the trunk and made a swift line to the front door of the morgue.

Kent sat at the front desk, reading a People magazine. He nearly dropped it and sat up extra straight when Sam and Evie walked in.

"Agents!" he said. "Didn't expect to see you back so soon."

"Yeah, hey, Kent, right?" Evie smiled. "We need to see Dr. Harding."

"Oh, she went home for the night," Kent said. The tone of his voice had changed. He seemed on edge.

"Can you give her a call?" Sam asked. "It's important."

"Uh ... OK," Kent said suspiciously. He turned to the phone and dialed a number, but his eyes were glued to Sam and Evie. He hung up the receiver without speaking. "No answer."

"Can you do me a solid, and write down her address?" Sam asked.

Kent eyed them. "Why?"

"We have reason to believe she may be in danger," Sam said.

"I'm really not supposed to," Kent said.

"Please, Kent," Sam said. "It's very important."

"OK," Kent relented. His hand shook as he reached for a pen, clumsily knocking over the cup with the 'My other car is a hears' sticker on it, as well as his glasses. Sam bent down to retrieve the glasses, but Evie watched Kent as he wrote an address on a scrap of paper without any difficulty. He didn't move closer to the paper. He didn't squint. There were no signs of bad vision. Sam returned his glasses and took the piece of paper.

"Thanks a lot," Evie said. She stuck out her hand. Kent shook it instinctively … and the tip of the silver knife hidden in Evie's sleeve touched his palm. His skin burned, and he pulled back quickly. Evie revealed the silver knife. Sam pulled his gun, which was loaded with silver bullets. Kent was already exploding from behind the front desk. Evie swung the knife at Kent's stomach, but he backhanded her across the face, and she fell to the floor. Sam fired two shots as Kent flew through the front door.

In the car Dean and Cas sat in utter silence. For Dean it was a purposeful silence; he was sending Cas a message, but Cas only barely noticed. He was slightly concerned with Dean's demeanor as of late. Dean seemed to be shorter with him than usual – a little ruder, too. Cas thought he should talk to Dean about this tension between them, but at the moment, he was more concerned with what was happening inside the morgue. He was watching the door intently, so he was on a hair trigger when the shifter burst out the door into the parking lot, running at full sprint, with Sam not far behind.

Cas teleported out of the car before Dean even noticed the commotion. Cas appeared directly in the shifter's path. Kent stopped short. His momentum caused him to slide forward several inches. A bullet from Sam's gun made its way through the shifter's heart, exited his body, and hit Cas. Kent and Cas both looked down at their wounds, Kent in shock and Cas with an eerie calm.

The shifter fell to his knees, then face down on the concrete, blood pooling around him.

"Cas!" Evie screamed. She ran to him.

Sam knelt next to the shifter's body. Dean spared a frustrated glance at Evie and Cas, then went to meet his brother.

Evie approached Cas, visibly worried. Cas opened his coat so Evie could see his wound heal right before her eyes. He smiled as his eyes rose to meet hers. Then, he noticed the cut and bruise on her cheek. Now it was he who was worried.

"I'm fine," she said as she touched her cheek. She felt blood. "Oh."

Cas moved her hand and touched her cheek, healing the wound.

"Oh," she said, touching her smooth cheek. She smiled. "Wow."

"Let's go, chick flick," Dean said, as he and Sam hefted the body past Evie and Cas toward the car. "We've got work to do here."

* * *

They buried the body, called in an anonymous tip about Dr. Harding's body, and left town. They drove through the night, not stopping until the sun rose and they were in Vermont. They stopped for breakfast at a diner/motel called The Night Owl. After breakfast they checked into the motel – two rooms, as usual: one for Sam and Dean, one for Evie.

Evie had already gone into her room and closed the door. Cas lingered outside, alternating between staring at his feet and raising his fist to knock then dropping it to his side. Sam unlocked the door and went in; Dean remained outside, watching Cas's awkward display. He eventually walked over. He said nothing when he reached Cas, just gave his best look of disapproval.

Cas felt that tension again. He almost faltered from it, but he decided to mention it. "Dean …" he started.

"Cas," Dean interrupted. "What are you doing, man?"

"I am talking to you."

"No, I mean …" Dean pointed a thumb toward Evie's door.

Cas opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"You'd better just leave that alone," Dean said, as if he were in on something Cas wasn't. "Trust me. You can't handle her. She's a wild cat." Dean was determined to turn Cas off the Evie trail.

Cas frowned slightly, then his face brightened again. "I think I …"

"Do you love her?" Dean interrupted. This would get the angel. He's incapable of love, Dean thought. Logic: flawless.

Cas hesitated for a long time before answering. "Yeah, I think I do," he said with a growing smile. "I have to tell her."

"No!" Dean exclaimed a little too loudly. Neither of them realized that this caught Evie's attention inside her room. She was now poised against the door, listening intently to every word they said. "You can't tell her. She'd be pissed," Dean continued, playing it as far as he could. "Trust me, I know her."

Cas's face fell into confusion. "Oh."

"You have to keep this to yourself," Dean counseled.

Evie's ear pressed against the door.

"I feel … compelled to tell her," Cas said.

"There's a time and a place, Cas, and believe me, this is not the place or the time," Dean said with certainty. "We'll all get along a lot better if you just keep your mouth shut, OK?"

Evie's stomach sank.

"Alright," Cas relented. "I suppose you know more about these matters than I do."

Evie stood back from the door and tried to breathe. Was Cas breaking up with her?

* * *

Evie sat at the tiny, round, wooden table at one of two chairs; she sat precariously in the chair with four good legs. The other chair leaned noticeably to the left. It looked like a parakeet's breath could knock it over. A set of five knives were perfectly lined up in front of her, and one was in her hand. She had been sharpening the same side of the same blade for thirty minutes, mindlessly running the knife along the whetstone again and again, staring blankly at an out-of-focus scratch on the surface of the table.

She had spent the day stewing over the conversation she had overheard. Dean had invited her to grab dinner with them, but she had declined in an effort to avoid Cas. But, now, she was waiting for him, partly hoping he'd show and partly hoping he'd stay away.

Every second the room echoed with the slicing sound of the blade. Between slices, the air was deathly silent. Then, suddenly, Evie heard the tell-tale flutter. She glanced upward only with her eyes; their eyes locked. Her hands continued to sharpen her knife, never missing a beat.

They stared into each other's eyes in awkward silence for the longest five seconds of Cas' existence.

"Uh, hi," he attempted a smile. It came across as hesitant, uncertain.

Evie's eyes returned to her work as she turned the knife over to sharpen the dull side. At this point the side she had been working on could have drawn blood if someone looked at if the wrong way.

"Hi," she responded, tersely.

"What are you working on?" Cas tried to make conversation. His 'people skills' had never been 'good,' per se, but he felt more inept now than he ever had. Dean had advised him against revealing his feelings for her, but he felt compelled to say those three little words that weighed so heavily on humans. He pulled out the chair that leaned noticeably to the left and lowered his weight into the seat, never breaking eye contact with Evie. He could do this! He tumbled out of the chair to the left but caught himself before falling to the floor. He let out a nervous breath of a laugh and quickly stood up. He pushed the chair in quietly, frowning.

Evie raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes slightly.

"Sharpening knives," Cas offered.

"Mmm hmm."

"I would be happy to help …"

"That's OK," Evie interrupted. "I think I'm actually gonna turn in early tonight."

She stood and swiftly crossed to the bed to turn down the covers.

"Oh, well, then I'll watch over you while you sleep."

"No, that's OK."

Another long, awkward silence ensued. Evie stood with her arms across her chest, eyes diverted; Cas, with his hands at his sides, shoulders hunched a little, confused. He looked at the floor. The Cas he was before he met Evie would have simply left without another word, but the Cas he became after meeting Evie couldn't leave without telling her.

He took a deep breath. "Did I do something wrong?"

Evie thought about just asking Cas to leave, but her curiosity got the better of her.

"What were you and Dean talking about?"

"What?"

"Outside my door earlier…" Evie glared accusingly at her angelic boyfriend. "What can't you tell me, Cas?"

Evie caught Cas off guard, which didn't happen often – so far, Dean had been the only human to really surprise him. That was a characteristic that had attracted him to Evie. He exhaled sharply.

"You're done with me, right?" Evie scowled. "That's it? Just like that?"

As Evie spewed her accusation, her skin began to itch. She tried to hide it as best she could. Aafter all, this was a serious moment, but she was so damned itchy!

"What?" Cas smiled and grimaced, simultaneously. "No! … No. That's not it."

He crossed the room to where Evie stood with her arms across her chest in a very sullen fashion, scratching at her neck or arms once in a while. Now, her eyes were on the floor, her shoulders hunched. She couldn't look at Cas. He gently caressed her shoulders.

"I'm not … breaking up with you. I believe that is the term," Cas tried to look down into Evie's eyes, but she still wouldn't look up. He noticed the itching, but he felt this was a serious and potentially romantic moment, so he didn't mention it. He gently raised Evie's chin with his index finger. A single tear made its way down her cheek. Cas brushed it away, then he noticed what appeared to be a rash appearing along Evie's neck.

"Um, I don't wish to ruin the moment, but you appear to be having an allergic reaction."

"Yeah, I don't know what's going on," Evie replied, embarrassed as Hell. She scratched at her arms vigorously for a few seconds then stopped suddenly.

"What were you going to tell me?"

"Oh," Cas was suddenly very nervous again. "I was going to say … that I …" He paused. He looked at his shoes and tried to breath. It was difficult. This time, it was Evie who lifted his chin.

"I love you," Cas said. He watched her, carefully, eagerly, awaiting her reaction.

Evie smiled. "I love you, too, Castiel."

Cas, breathing a sigh of relief, moved closer to Evie and leaned in slowly for a kiss.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Evie and Cas both stopped just before their lips met. Cas sighed. Evie closed her eyes and exhaled sharply.

"Oh my God," she muttered, her teeth clasped tightly.

Crossing the room swiftly, she yelled, "Really?! Dean …" She jerked the door ajar and stopped short. Her eyes widened, her jaw dropped. She froze for a brief moment. First, panic, then instinct took over … she moved for the shotgun behind the door.

Crowley tossed Evie across the room like a rag doll with the slightest flick of his wrist – the wrist that was holding a knife to Dean's taut throat.

"Feisty," Crowley smirked, as Evie's helpless form flew against the wall, knocking down the lopsided chair that Cas had awkwardly stumbled from just minutes earlier. Evie crumbled to the floor, struggling for air. Cas was drawn to two places at once: help Evie or kill Crowley? He stole a quick glance toward his woman. Their eyes met and the look there said "Get him." Cas' eyes darted toward Crowley.

"Ah ah ah, my old friend." Crowley brandished a pistol before Cas could move. He sauntered through the door, urging Dean along, knife remaining tightly bound to his hostage's carotid artery. The demon flamboyantly slammed the door with his mind. He never broke eye contact with Cas.

"Recognize this?" Crowley wiggled the gun, the one Crowley had casted from an angel blade.

Cas glared daggers at Crowley. His body remained perfectly still and calm, yet tense, ready to pounce, like an animal on the hunt.

"Of course, you do," said Crowley. He turned his gaze toward Evie, who was deliberately and silently rising to a standing position. She felt the presence of her knives on the table, though she dared not look.

"To you, though, lovely, this likely looks like your run-of-the-mill handgun. Well, let me tell you, dear, it most certainly is not," he grinned. He waited for a reaction. He didn't get one. He frowned almost indistinctly. Most people wouldn't have noticed. Evie noticed.

"Would you get to the damned point, already?" Dean hissed. Every word grated against Crowley's knife.

"Oh, I think we've got the point …" Crowley smirked as he poked the knifepoint against Dean's Adam's apple. Dean tried to pull his throat into itself, but no matter how far he pulled, Crowley's knife followed.

"CROWLEY!" Cas's angelic voice boomed. Cas's eyes began to glow. His anger was building.

Suddenly, Evie sneezed loudly four times in quick succession. She scratched violently at the rash on her chest.

The angel, the demon, and the hostage all stopped. The aura around Cas faded; Crowley's pressure on Dean's throat loosened slightly; even Dean's tension eased a bit. They all looked at the woman sneezing and scratching.

"What the Hell is wrong with you?" Crowley asked, a bit disgusted.

"Id dat Sulfur?" Evie asked through a congested nose.

Confusion painted the men's faces. Crowley's confusion quickly gave way to a knowing leer. He began to snigger. Within seconds he was howling with hoarse laughter.

"A hunter who's allergic to demons! That's the best thing I've ever heard!"

Dean and Cas looked at each other then back to Evie, who was wiping her nose on her sleeve and trying not to scratch at her rash.

"Oh! Here, love, I think I may have some Benadryl," Crowley said, laughter trailing off. He started to move toward Evie. Cas was in front of Crowley, within an inch of his face, staring down at the demon's forehead before Crowley could lift his foot from the floor.

Crowley peeled his eyes up Cas' collar, up his neck, up his face, to his smoldering eyes.

"You will not touch her," Cas stated simply. He sounded like old Castiel – pre-Apocalypse Castiel.

Crowley sneered and stepped back one step. But only one step. He glanced at Dean, still with the knife to his neck. Then, he glanced around the angel at Evie.

"So," Crowley said quietly, nodding faintly to Dean. "You're done with this one, then?"

Confusion and awareness nearly simultaneously struck Cas, the first like a vague wave, the second like a sudden avalanche. Crowley saw. He beamed.

In a blink Crowley disappeared and reappeared behind Evie. He wrapped his arms around her.

"CAS!" Evie screamed.

In a blink, they were gone.

"EVIE!" Cas called.

Dean and Cas were silent for a moment. Neither breathed. Then, Cas screamed, not in a human voice, but in a piercing angelic shriek. The aura that grew around him was blinding; the light was pure white.

"Oh, no!" Dean cried.

The entire motel was flattened, along with its four occupants, but not before the shockwave blew out all the walls, windows and doors. Cars flew for miles like toys. The lopsided chair incinerated, and so did Dean. He lived long enough to hear the high-pitched wail and flash back to the gas station after he climbed from his grave all those years ago: the first time he heard Cas' real voice. Then blackness.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Evie woke slowly, actively fighting to pull herself from the haze. She forced her eyes open. The lighting seemed dim; she couldn't tell if there wasn't enough light to see or if it had been too long since she used her eyes. She felt … cold, restrained. As her eyes started to adjust, she saw a short shadow enter the room. She also started to realize why she felt so cold: she was naked and strapped to a metal table.

She heard shuffling footsteps and rattling noises nearby, like tools were being selected, replaced, and finally chosen again. Her eyes desperately searched the fading darkness for the source of the sound, but all she managed to see were flickering fluorescent lights hanging above her and a portion of the leather strap across her chin. She could feel all the restraints, even if she couldn't see them: across her forehead and chin, breasts, both wrists, hips, and both ankles, holding her perfectly stationary. They were fastened very tightly and dug into her skin.

She struggled with sudden jolts of energy, hoping to break free, jump the unwitting shadow figure, and escape. The rattling noises suddenly stopped. Evie froze, her eyes darting around frantically.

"Oh, good," said a gruff male voice. "You're awake."

Crowley's leering face appeared in Evie's restricted field of vision. There were spatters of blood and who knows what other fluids covering his filthy once-white apron.

Evie's breath stopped short. She tried not to show him how afraid she was, but he knew. He could smell it. Fear become a delicacy for Crowley after years of honing his taste for torture. Each victim was different, unique in his or her own way, but there was always one thing Crowley could count on: fear. It was a subtle undercurrent, that je ne sais quoi that absolutely made a dish. It was always there, but it never lost its zing. One way or another, he always got it. Sometimes easier than others.

On this girl he smelled fear and something else mixed in … a stubborn will with a dash of sass. This might be more fun than he had originally thought.

"So, sweetheart," Crowley purred. "Where shall we begin?"

Evie glared at Crowley with fiery eyes and pursed lips.

"Really? The silent treatment?" he asked playfully. "Or are you just playing hard to get?"

Crowley ambled back into the shadows and removed a simple, sharp knife from the stainless steel table, which was covered with horrific blades, each worse than the last. He teasingly slid the tip of the blade along Evie's skin, starting at her left hip and tracing a trail across her tight stomach and between her breasts.

"Loosen up a little. I bet I can hit the sweet spot," Crowley teased.

"Who are you? What do you want?" asked Evie, breathless. Her eyes watered, and her skin flushed. She had been allergic to sulfur as long as she could remember. The allergy had become both a blessing and a curse when she started hunting; she always knew when demons were around, but her skills were hindered.

"Where are my manners? The name's Crowley … King of Hell," he said, grinning smugly. He got the reaction he wanted this time: pure fear.

"And, you are … under usual circumstances a bottom-dwelling, street-walking whore hunter I couldn't give two shits about. But, somehow, you have gained the good graces of an old associate, an angel I do happen to give a shit about. Well, not the angel, per se, but what he knows."

"I don't know anything," Evie said as flatly as she could manage.

"You know more than you think you know," said Crowley. His grin widened.

Crowley grabbed a small glass bottle from the table of horrors. The clear, unlabeled vial contained a thick, red liquid. Crowley raised his eyebrows playfully as he flaunted the bottle above Evie's troubled face. Evie's red, watery eyes darted between the bottle and Crowley's hazy form.

"What?" Evie asked with as much arrogance as she could pull off. "You need a truth serum to get it up?"

Crowley's smirk faltered, but only for a moment. It was enough to give Evie a little confidence, which Crowley immediately took away. Suddenly, he gripped Evie's cheeks with a force she didn't expect from this smarmy, little man. He squeezed his fingers tightly around her chin, letting them dig further into her cheeks with each frantic breath. He stared into Evie's eyes with an intense, unbreakable gaze.

He squeezed a final time, opening Evie's mouth against her will. Crowley flipped the cork from the bottle with a flick of his thumb and poured the liquid down Evie's reluctant throat. She tried to spit it out, but Crowley's unyielding hand covered her mouth and nose. She held out as long as she could, trying to stay calm and hold her breath, wait until he moved his hand away. She lasted for thirty seconds, each feeling like a month, but soon she gave in. The liquid coated her throat like paint coating a canvas. She could feel granules coursing past her uvula and following the trail to her stomach; they made her gag, but eventually, she swallowed. It was done.

Crowley removed his hand slowly, gingerly tracing the edges of her lips with the tip of his index finger.

"Hmm," Crowley grunted with satisfaction. "There's a good girl."

Coughing, Evie managed to choke out a barely comprehensible: "What was that?"

"That was a little concoction I whipped up," Crowley stated, feigning modesty, but his pride oozed from every part of him. He was obviously waiting for a dramatic response. Evie refused to give it to him, maintaining a visage of a relatively cool exterior, although on the inside it was utter panic. Her mind was all over the place: Was it truth serum? Was it poison?

"I cleared up that nasty allergy for you," Crowley grinned. "We're going to be spending a lot of time together, and I want every second to be unpleasant, of course … but only for you. That whole sneezing, watery-eyes bit would get in the way." He dangled the knife just above Evie's breasts. He was holding his breath, waiting for any sign of emotion from Evie – tears, prayer, groveling. When she didn't indulge him, he sighed loudly. "I gave you the gift of life … forever. My gift to you."

"I don't believe you!" Evie yelled, breathing heavily.

"No? How's the allergy?"

He was right. She had stopped sneezing, her eyes had stopped watering, and her head was clear.

"What did you mean you gave me life forever?" she asked warily.

"I meant just what I said, dear," he answered. "Cas doesn't like 'em too bright, does he?"

"Like the fountain of youth?"

"No, no, no," he said. "The fountain of youth is a myth. I created this just for you. Be grateful."

"You're a demon," she said, each word rolling spitefully off her tongue. "You don't give anything away."

Crowley chuckled. "Well, you got me," he admitted, spreading his hands wide.

"What do you want?"

"Not one for foreplay? Like to get right down to it, then?" Crowley's playful grin faded into an ugly sneer. "Have it your way." He thrust the knife into Evie's shoulder until the tip collided with the metal table. Evie's lungs let go a long, ear-piercing shriek: music to Crowley's ears.

* * *

Dean awoke with a heavy, groggy head, and it ached something fierce. He felt like he had drained a keg, then made a good dent in the after party. He sat up slowly, groaning, ears ringing.

"Dean!" Sam rushed to his brother's bedside.

"Hey," Dean replied weakly. He looked around the room through squinted eyes and spotted Cas standing awkwardly in the corner.

"I'm glad to see you're alright," Cas said.

"Wait a minute," Dean said. The last thing Dean remembered was an intense, high-pitched whine and blinding white light … and Crowley. "Where's Evie?"

"Crowley took her," Sam said.

"We have to find her," Dean said.

"I have already collected the ingredients for a tracking spell," Cas said. "But I had to bring you back first."

"Bring me back? … Wh- tracking spell?" Dean questioned.

"Yes," Cas said, looking at the floor.

"You were dead," Sam said quietly. "Cas brought you back."

"Dead?" Dean exclaimed. "Again!?" He rolled his eyes then closed them.

"Yeah, the whole block was levelled," Sam volunteered reluctantly.

Realizing what had happened, a fire lit in Dean's eyes. He shot it at Cas, who again turned his gaze to the floor.

"How'd you make it out?" Dean asked Sam.

"I woke up in a dumpster two miles from the motel," Sam said. "My guess is Crowley wanted me out of the way."

Dean's face contorted with hatred at the sound of his name.

"Why the tracking spell? Can't you zero in on Evie?" Dean asked.

"No. She's hidden from me," Cas said, looking like a sad puppy when his owner leaves for work.

"Hidden? How?" Dean asked.

"Dean," Sam nodded ever so slightly at the pouty, crushed angel. "What happened to shoot first, ask questions later?"

"I'll shoot anybody you want, let's just do this," Dean said.

* * *

Crowley's knife dug into Evie's side, piercing her kidney. She could feel every tear, every cut, every drop of blood pouring from her body. She could feel her heart pumping hard, pushing blood out faster and faster. She closed her eyes and screamed through gritted teeth.

She gasped for air. Crowley pulled the knife out and examined it thoughtfully, watching the blood dripping from the tip.

Her other senses were dulled. She was having trouble seeing or hearing anything, but for whatever reason she could smell: with every breath she inhaled sulfur and Scotch.

Evie relaxed for brief moment as the wound sealed itself; it burned a little less each time. Each and every wound Crowley had inflicted on her in the last five hours – shallow cuts, deep gashes, fire and acid burns –had healed within seconds. They may have healed quickly, but that didn't mean they didn't hurt like Hell.

"You haven't even asked me anything!" Evie yelled.

"I don't need to," Crowley grinned, menacingly. He plunged the knife into her left lung and twisted it. His charming facade never faltered.

Evie tried to scream, her mouth open wide, but all that came out was a hiss of air. The pain was excruciating.

"I'm assuming you and Castiel have been … intimate," he stated as he slowly pulled the knife out. He pulled it out so slowly that the skin nearly healed around the blade. Evie caught her breath as her lung reformed.

"I'll take your silence as confirmation. Getting it on with an angel connects you to said angel in ways you puny humans couldn't even possibly begin to understand," he grinned at her. "So, you see, I don't need you to talk …"

"Then, why do you need me?" Evie asked, concerned. If he didn't need her for information, what was all this for? "Why do you keep stabbing me?"

If her body still scarred, there would be hundreds of tiny ones along her ribcage forming Enochian symbols—the same pattern that Sam and Dean sported on their ribs. Crowley just stared at Evie and chuckled. Things were going swimmingly.

* * *

"He's within a 20-mile radius of Cheyenne, Wyoming," Cas said, standing over a bowl of smoldering ash.

"Let's go," Dean said, grabbing his jacket and rushing toward the car.

* * *

Evie fell asleep for two seconds, the two seconds that Crowley wanted her to sleep. A shuffling by the door woke her. She was exhausted. Her red, puffy eyes squinted through the tears, struggling to see through the darkness.

Cas' voice called to her from the doorway. "Evie?" he whispered.

"Cas? Is that you?" Evie asked with a hoarse but hopeful groan.

"Yes."

He approached the table warily. Evie started to cry tears of joy as Cas stroked her face … until his thumb pressed into her cheek just a little too hard. Cas was almost glaring down his nose at her. She breathed in heavily. Scotch. Sulfur. Loathing. Perverse pleasure. This wasn't her angel.

A hideous leer spread across the imposter's face, turning Castiel's chiseled features into something demonic. As the leer changed into a toothy smile, Cas morphed into Crowley before her eyes. Evie held her breath and the tears continued to flow—no longer tears of joy, but now tears of frustration and pain. She had tried with all her might not to let Crowley see her cry, but this torture was too much. She'd rather the constant slicing and dicing.

"Keep those hopes up, sweetheart," Crowley baited. He dabbed at her tears with a mean, playful finger. She tried to pull away but her head was held in place by the leather strap. "I do enjoy tearing them down."

* * *

Dean stopped the Impala five hundred feet from the dark warehouse and killed the ignition.

"Those vagrants …" Cas said, eyeballing a pack of men patrolling the perimeter of the warehouse. "They're demons. I'll take care of it."

_Flutter._

Cas disappeared. Flashes of light blazed outside the warehouse as Cas killed each demon, one after the other.

"Damn it, Cas!" Dean exclaimed.

Sam and Dean opened and closed their car doors quickly in unison, hurrying to follow.

* * *

Cas strode through the dark hallways past a seemingly infinite number of doors. He didn't need to look inside; he could feel Evie now. She was down the next corridor to the left, first door to the right. He walked in, confident, shoulders back, head up. He was here to save his woman and nothing could stop him.

He saw Evie strapped to a stainless steel table. Something about this was familiar. He had seen this set up before, when one of Crowley's minions had captured and tortured Meg. He stopped just short of her feet. His eyes met Evie's; they were red, bloodshot, terrified. This time, though, it didn't take a second for Evie to know that this wasn't another one of Crowley's tortures. This was her angel, and he was in trouble.

"Cas! No! Get out of here now!" Evie screamed.

Cas' confidence left him. He turned toward the doorframe and saw what he had feared: Crowley stood to the left of the door, knife slicing his right palm. Blood poured out. Then, Cas noticed the banishing sigil painted on the wall.

"As much as I'd love to watch you squirm as I smoke rape your girlfriend …" Crowley said as he smashed his bloody hand into the sigil.

"No!" Cas and Evie screamed in unison as first the angel then the entire room was enveloped in white light. In a flash Cas was gone.

Sam and Dean heard the screaming and the tell-tale high-pitched whine of the angel banishing spell. They spared a quick glance at each other, then ran full speed in that direction. The boys rushed into the torture room, guns drawn, and ready to use them. Evie stood at the table, her back to them, staring at the unlatched straps and puddles of blood on the table. There was more blood covering the floor.

"Evie?" Dean asked, cautiously.

Evie rotated on her heels, turning around slowly in a flashy display.

"Hallo, boys," she said in a deep, dusky, British accent.

* * *

Sam was the first to break out of the trance. He raised his gun at what looked like Evie. Dean was still frozen, unable to react.

The Evie thing held out her hands, palms upward. Effortlessly, she raised her palms toward the ceiling, and Sam and Dean both began to levitate. She flicked both wrists outward, and the boys flew in opposite directions. She looked like she was conducting a symphony. They slammed into the walls on either side of the room, their backs cracking drywall. Evie's hands relaxed, and the boys crumpled to the ground.

She held out her hands, and the guns flew to her.

Dean propped himself up on one elbow, crunching broken wall. He peered at Evie. She was brazenly posing with the brothers' guns like a Wild West sharpshooter. She pursed her lips and blew non-existent smoke from the barrel of Dean's gun.

She smiled wide with satisfaction at Dean's confusion.

"Evie," Dean started.

"Mmm mmm," Evie playfully shook her head 'no.'

"Crowley," Sam said, sitting up slowly.

The Evie thing grinned, and her eyes flashed red. "I suppose you two want to hear the whole story. We do have the time … now." Her eyes returned to the typical Evie brown, and she turned an obvious gaze toward the banishing sigil on the wall.

"Why?!" Dean demanded.

"Because I wanted to look pretty," Crowley sarcastically answered Dean's question through Evie's larynx. Evie could see, hear, smell, and feel everything, but she had control over nothing. It was as if she were perched behind Crowley's eyes, looking through her eyes: Being John Malkovich, demon version.

Evie rolled her eyes. "Because she had something I needed. … And now, I have it. Too little, too late, boys."

"But, why possess her?" Sam inquired. "I mean, you obviously tortured her. A lot. … And you said you got what you wanted, so why possess her?"

"Because he's a demon dick," Dean retorted.

Evie kicked Dean's arm out from under him with a slight flick of her wrist. Dean's face hit the floor. He said up quickly, gasping.

"I am breathtaking, aren't I?" Evie said, admiring the host body. "And I thought I looked good before."

"Get the hell out of her, you son of a bitch!" Dean yelled, rising to his knees.

"Soon enough," she stated. "I want to watch you squirm for just a little bit longer … while I do things to your girlfriend's head … and maybe other bits."

Dean's fury made Crowley laugh. Dean cringed at the sound of Evie's voice.

"Quite the love triangle you've got going," Evie said to Dean. "She still has feelings for you, you know. But, she loves Cas. Truly loves him. So deeply. Deeper than she ever felt for you. … Crazy bird. Poor taste in men."

"Take me!" Dean offered. He was sure Crowley would revel at the chance to tear him apart. He quickly met Sam's gaze. Sam immediately understood: Get Evie out.

"No," Evie stated flatly.

"No?" Dean asked, flabbergasted.

Evie sauntered around the table's perimeter, tracing a playful finger along its cold surface. "She is exquisite." She smiled. "All the right curves in all the right places." Evie's eyes ran back and forth across her C-cups.

Dean moved to charge at Evie, but Sam held him back.

Evie cackled.

"Let's get this over with!" yelled Sam. "Do something if you're gonna do it, otherwise let us go!"

"How about I kill you? Or, better yet, I leave you alive and get creative with Evie while you watch."

Just then, they heard approaching footsteps. They were moving fast. Cas entered the room, fists clenched, barreling toward Evie. He stopped just short of running into her head on.

Crowley's confidence wavered, and the host fell back slightly. "How did you get back so fast?"

Cas glared at her, eyes blazing white. He was furious, but he wasn't smiting. Evie stood up a little straighter.

"What are you going to do, Cas? Smite me?" Evie grinned. "You can't do anything to me without risking Evie's well-being. And, we all know you wouldn't want anything to happen to your lady friend."

"I would rather have the only woman I've ever loved die by my hand than spend another second as your puppet," said Cas. The light in Cas' eyes intensified. The glow began to emanate from his entire body.

Evie cowered.

"Fine," Evie sneered. "Have it your way."

It was only a matter of seconds before Evie's mouth was forced open and red smoke poured out as Crowley fled. Cas swooped in just as Evie's body, now all hers again, fell limp. He caught her before she hit the floor.

* * *

Evie awoke to the sounds of voices, a car engine, and … was that Asia? It was dark. She felt strong arms around her.

"Evie!" Cas exclaimed.

Her eyes adjusted, and she saw she was lying across the backseat of the Impala, cradled in Cas' arms. She looked up into his big blue eyes.

"Cas!" she cried, hugging him tightly.

"Hey, there, Sunshine!" Dean's voice called from the driver's seat.

"Evie," said Sam. "How are you feeling?"

Sitting upright, Evie closed her eyes. "I was tortured by the King of Hell, then ridden like a sock puppet."

Sam and Dean got abruptly quiet.

"What did you expect me to say?"

Cas couldn't think of any comforting words, so he simply grasped Evie's hand. She held it firmly.

"How did you get back?" she asked Cas. "That blood spell he did. He sent you back to Heaven."

"I had what humans call _insurance_," Cas stated matter-of-factly.

"We paid a wide-eyed choir boy to sit in the car with a bowl of Cas-summoning ingredients and instructions to add the last one if he saw a white light," Dean said proudly.

"Huh," Evie said, actually impressed. "And he was willing?"

"Oh, yeah!" Dean said. "You'd think Cas was a movie star the way the kid gushed."

"He was devout, and I am in his debt," Cas said.

Evie looked around the car. "Where is he?"

"We bought him his first drink, then his second, and his third … and carried his drunk ass home to sleep it off," said Dean. "You've been out for like 15 hours."

"Well, you get kidnapped, tortured, and possessed, you miss all the fun," Evie joked.

_Silence._

"Evie, do you know what Crowley wanted?" Dean asked softly.

"No," she answered, head hanging. Her eyes stared ahead, unfocused. "He talked about Cas … and he said he didn't need to ask me any questions."

"That's weird," Sam said. "Do you know what Crowley meant, Cas?"

Evie's curls hid her troubled face, but she started shaking at the mention of Crowley's name. Cas put a comforting arm around her hunched shoulders and looked at Sam. His eyes said, "Later."

Sam and Dean both let up. They made the rest of the trip with only the sounds of classic rock on the radio.

* * *

The car pulled off the main road and onto a nameless dirt road. They drove for maybe another mile where the road ended in a turnaround; Dean parked the Impala.

He pulled the key from the ignition, and the brothers exited the car. Cas waited for Evie. When she finally stood, Sam and Dean were already grabbing the bags from the trunk. She tried to take her bag, but Dean wouldn't let her.

"I got it."

"Where are we?" Evie asked.

"You'll be safe here," Cas assured Evie, stroking her arm. She shot him a questioning gaze.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I can only assume Crowley knows about the tablet. I have to make sure he doesn't find it," Cas stated.

Dean turned. He was halfway to the bunker door; Sam was already inside. "The what?"

Cas looked at the ground. "There is another tablet."

Dean sighed sharply and rolled his eyes. "Oh, great! What bottom-feeding Hell spawn of creation is it this time?"

"Human," Cas said with severity.

Dean's eyes widened to the size of grapefruits. "Human?! You're kidding! And, you knew about this? Why didn't you tell us?!"

"Dean," Cas shook his head. "It's just as dangerous as the other tablets."

"Wait." Realization crept over Dean's face. "Like, wipe out all humans?"

"Yes," Cas stated. "ALL of you."

"What are you guys talking about?" Evie asked, worried.

"Dean can explain," Cas said apologetically. "I have to go."

Evie wanted to beg him to stay, but she knew it would do no good. Besides, this sounded serious. She gripped the nape of Cas' neck and pulled him into her. She kissed him deeply; he returned it.

"Go," Evie said. "Just be careful, Cas."

"Keep her safe, Dean," Cas said. "For some reason I can't sense her until I'm close to her."

"She won't leave my sight," Dean assured.

_Flutter_.

"What's this crap about a tablet?" Evie asked.

"Let's talk about it inside," Dean said, guiding Evie into the bunker.

After several beers and a lengthy explanation of their adventures over the last few years, followed by several more beers, Sam and Dean leaned back in their chairs, satisfied.

Evie exhaled deeply. "So you're saying there are prehistoric genocide instruction manuals floating around?"

"They're not floating," Dean said.

"We took care of some previous tablet-related issues," Sam defended himself and his brother. "… Wait a minute. If there's a tablet, that means there's a new prophet."

Dean's face appeared to age five years as realization and dread passed over it.

"This all sounds really bad," Evie said.

"Nothing we can't handle," Dean reassured.

"My hero," Evie said blankly.

* * *

Sam and Evie intently poured over thick, leather-bound tomes while Dean carried a leaning tower of lore books to the table. He plopped the books on down heavily and sat. The loud boom made Evie jump, but the brothers didn't notice. Her eyes caught shadows playing across the room, and fright began to well up inside her. She heard a noise behind her. She started.

She swallowed hard, then cleared her throat. She looked down at the words on the page, pretending to read. She breathed in deeply: Scotch. She sniffed franticly. The scent was there and then gone. Her eyes darted around the room.

"Anybody find anything?" Dean asked, taking a swig of a longneck beer.

Evie jumped so high at the sound of Dean's voice that, this time, the brothers did notice. She closed her eyes tightly, and clenched her fists. When she opened her eyes, Sam and Dean were both staring at her.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked with concern.

Dean raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Nothing …" Evie started unconvincingly. Her eyes widened as, again, she was overwhelmed by the odor of Scotch. She clenched her jaw and looked away, avoiding eye contact as if her life depended on it.

"Evie," Dean demanded in his usual detached tone.

Evie's fingers dug into the cover of the book sitting in front of her as she stared a hole into the table.

"I know," Sam said with a level of understanding that only someone who had been through the same ordeal could muster. Sam's compassionate eyes met Evie's deeply pained ones, and there was an instant connection. They had both been taken over by pure evil and then haunted after they thought it was all over.

"Oh," Dean said suddenly. "This is about you and Crowley."

"Dean," Sam warned.

"Look, we've all been there, Evie," Dean lectured. "But, sometimes you've just got to stow it and man up."

Evie shot a look at Dean that could have withered any man. Then, the façade broke, her eyes began to well with tears, and she abruptly left the room.

"Real smooth," Sam said.

* * *

Two hours and a few more beers later, Sam and Dean were still flipping through tomes. Dean fell asleep briefly, his head falling a bit before he caught himself. He blinked a few times and rubbed his weary eyes.

"Dude, I gotta take a break," Dean told Sam.

"OK," Sam replied. "Good idea."

"I could use a burger. How about the usual?" Dean asked, referring to a dive they frequented. Sam and Dean had eaten there at least twenty times. Dean always ordered the bacon cheeseburger. Sam, of course, ordered a healthier option: either a salad or a wrap, depending on his mood.

"Sure," Sam said.

"I'll go get Evie," Dean said, pushing his chair away from the table.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Dean," Sam said.

Dean stopped with his hands on his thighs, poised to stand. He rolled his eyes, and with a sigh said, "Because of earlier."

"You were really insensitive … worse than insensitive, actually," Sam said.

"Dude, I get it. I've been to Hell, remember?" Dean said.

"Yeah, but, Dean, you didn't have the same experience she did," Sam said.

"So?" Dean asked, exasperated. "I think going to Hell was worse than being possessed by a demon."

"It wasn't just a demon," Sam said. "It was Crowley. And, he didn't just possess her, he tortured her for nearly a day. I mean, could you be just a little empathetic for two seconds and imagine how horrifying that must've been for her?"

"I was tortured by Alastair!" Dean said.

Sam was taken aback, and he showed it physically. "Is this a competition to you?"

Dean's face scrunched. "No!"

"I can't even …" Sam trailed off. He pushed his chair from the table and stood. He started to walk away, then turned around. "You know, I, of all people know you've been through a lot of crap, but that doesn't mean that other people's crap doesn't hold a candle to yours! I was ridden by Lucifer. I had to watch everything he did while he wore my skin, including killing Bobby and Cas and a ton of other people, and nearly killing you with my bare hands. And, then, when he was gone … he wasn't. The after effects haunted me, and you saw what happened. … Evie was tortured and ridden by the King of Hell, and now she's dealing with what comes next," Sam finished. "Show her a little compassion."

As Sam walked down the hall to Evie's room, Dean hung his head in shame.

Sam returned shortly. Alone.

"She's not coming," Sam said. "I don't think I am either."

"Oh, come on, Sam," said Dean. "You gotta eat."

"I think we have some cereal in the pantry," Sam said. He headed toward the kitchen but stopped in the doorway. He turned to look at Dean, who was gazing down the hallway that led to Evie's room.

"Dean," said Sam. "Give her some time."

* * *

Evie sat, blankly staring at a full cup of lukewarm coffee. The hand loosely holding the cup had been resting in the same spot for thirty minutes.

Dean sighed and sat in the chair across the table. "Evie."

She didn't look up.

"Evie!" Dean said, more forcefully.

She met his gaze briefly, then looked at the far wall.

"You've been moping around here for a week," he stated flatly. "Look, we all know it was hard … and that it wasn't you." _Pause_. "So, it's water under the bridge."

Evie's eyes suddenly focused and stared directly at Dean.

"That's what you think? That I'm guilty?" she questioned accusingly.

Dean's head cocked slightly, as if he was confused. Evie spoke before he could ask what she meant.

"It's not all about you!" she yelled. She turned a cold shoulder toward him and with the sudden motion accidently spilled the coffee. She jumped up reflexively, knocking the chair to the floor as she stumbled backward. Tears filled her eyes. She stood, breathing heavily and staring blankly at the puddle accumulating on the floor.

Dean stood and approached her, palms outstretched to show her everything was OK.

"I'm scared," she admitted. It was not something she had stated out loud in years. Actually, the last time she had said those words was to Dean – over a decade ago.

"Listen, I understand…" Dean tried.

"No, you don't understand!" she yelled. "I was possessed by the King of Hell! We didn't exactly have a picnic inside my head."

They were both silent. Evie licked her lips, then said, "He's just been a nuisance to you, a pain in your ass." Her eyes met Dean's. In that moment Dean saw something he had never seen in those eyes: defeat. "You've never seen the real Crowley. He's pure evil, Dean. And no matter how hard I try, I can't wash off his stench." She choked out the last part. Her eyes were full of tears, but they refused to fall.

Dean rubbed Evie's arms. "OK," he said with decisiveness. "Come on."

"'Come on' where? Where are we going?" she asked suspiciously.

"We're going to make sure you never have to go through that again," Dean said reassuringly.

* * *

The Impala pulled up to the curb and came to a rolling stop. Evie looked at the storefronts: a Chinese restaurant and a tattoo parlor.

"Spring rolls?"

"We're gonna get you one of these," Dean said, pulling down the collar of his shirt to expose his tattoo. "It's an anti-possession symbol. Keeps demons out. All demons."

He could see the questions in her eyes. "Look, it's a long story. Just trust me … it comes in handy."

She hated the feeling of losing control, but she trusted Dean almost more than she trusted Cas. Dean had left her, true, but he hadn't lied to her. Ever. And there were worse things than getting ink. Things like paralyzing fear – the fear that Crowley could be waiting around every corner, the fear she felt when he was inside her, the fear that she would never be herself again.

"OK," she agreed. She opened the passenger door and started to exit the car.

"I'm not gonna lie," Dean stated like he was imparting great knowledge. "It hurts," he said, referring to the tattooing process. "But it'll be worth it."

"What are you, a girl?" Evie mocked as she stood on the curb and closed the door.

Dean stood with his elbows across the roof of the Impala. He raised his eyebrows at Evie.

"This is not my first time," she grinned playfully. She hadn't even thought about smiling since the incident with Crowley. Leave it to Dean Winchester.

Dean had to think for a minute. He hadn't noticed a tattoo when he busted in on her in the shower, but he had probably missed it when she busted his lip and sent him to the floor to wrestle with the shower curtain.

"Hot!" he thought, following her into the small tattoo parlor.

* * *

Evie and Dean sat in the Chinese restaurant next to the tattoo parlor. Dean watched in stunned silence as Evie shoveled down lo mein like a she had a bottomless pit for a stomach. He was impressed, and honestly, a little turned on. He had watched as she had her hip tattooed just ten minutes ago. She had to pull her pants down, revealing black satin panties lined with a little black lace. He had thoroughly enjoyed the forty five minutes he spent pretending to read a Variety magazine.

"Hey," Evie said through a mouthful of noodles. "You not hungry?"

Dean snapped back to reality. His plate of fried rice and beef remained mostly untouched, as did his eggroll. Evie's had disappeared nearly as soon as the waiter set the plate down. Dean was glad to see her eating. She had hardly eaten a thing since they rescued her from Crowley.

"Oh, no, yeah," Dean stumbled over his words. "Yep." He picked up his eggroll and devoured half of it with one bite. A piece of cabbage fell from his mouth and landed on the table. He grinned goofily. To his surprise Evie grinned back. This may have been the first pleasant interaction they had had in more than ten years. It was nice.

* * *

Sam returned to the bunker after a relaxing five-mile jog. Sam enjoyed his jogs, his only alone time aside from bathroom time—a cumulative seven minutes a day, including shower. He could be free when running, he could think, breathe, and just be Sam. There were no cases, no monsters, no demons, no angels … there was no guilt and no worries. He loved hunting, and he loved his brother, but sometimes Dean could be tiring.

Sam walked in, feeling refreshed, and found a surprising scene: Dean and Evie busy, working together, actively discussing the human tablet situation.

Sam found himself very confused. He turned around and looked at the closed bunker door as if it were a portal to a parallel universe. "Wouldn't be the first time," he thought.

Evie noticed him standing stupidly at the top of the stairs.

"Hey, Sam!" she called, smiling.

"Hey!" he replied, pleasantly surprised.

"Lance Armstrong finally decides to join us," Dean teased.

"Dean …" Sam shook his head, bemused, yet again.

"Sam has a bike?" Evie asked.

"What?" Dean asked. "He went running. Like he's freaking Lance Armstrong."

Sam grinned quietly.

"Lance Armstrong is biking."

Dean half-smiled at her, pretending he understood.

Evie glanced at Sam for help. He shook his head as if to say "Don't even try," so Evie let it go.

"So, Sam, while you were out being Lance Armstrong …" Evie started with a grin, "we switched gears. Instead of trying to find lore about this human tablet—which we can't find—we thought we might make more progress finding someone else who's looking for the tablet."

"Crowley?" Sam asked with hesitation. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

"It may be our best shot," Evie said.

"What about Cas?" Sam asked.

Evie sighed and looked away sadly. "I've been praying every night."

"Me, too," Dean admitted.

Sam sighed heavily. "Yeah, me, too."

Taking a deep breath, Sam agreed, "OK. So, how do we find Crowley?"

"There are demon signs in Lincoln, Nebraska. We can be there in just under three hours," Dean said.

"OK, so, we're going to kidnap a demon and, what? Torture him?" Sam asked.

"Well, yeah," Dean replied.

"What makes you think the demon or demons in Lincoln know where Crowley is?" Sam asked.

"It's all we've got at this point," Evie said. "Look, we start with this asshole in Lincoln and we don't stop until we find the king."

"And when we find King Douche Bag?" Sam asked.

Evie's gaze took on a scary intensity, her eyes slightly unfocused as if her mind was somewhere else. "Then, I make that little limey bastard my bitch."

* * *

The hunters arrived in Lincoln two hours and forty five minutes later. Dean looked at his watch and grinned at his time.

Sam had conducted research during the drive and found newspaper articles about possible demon victims: two people who had won the lottery in Lincoln in the last two months; a chef whose failing restaurant was suddenly five-star dining; and an overweight man living in his mom's basement who wed a famous actress after writing a fan letter. Sam found police reports, addresses, loan records, marriage records, and college transcripts. By the time they reached Lincoln, they were ready to put on their fed hats.

They arrived at the home of Shirley Carr, one of the lottery winners, just before 5 PM. The house was a modest 30-year-old ranch-style. There was a "For Sale" sign in the yard and a Mercedes-Benz in the cracked driveway. Dean parallel parked on the street.

"Shirley Carr, age 44," Sam said. "She and her husband owned a crappy diner for twenty five years. Then, a week ago, she won the lottery."

"How much?" Dean asked.

"Sixty-five million dollars," Sam said with more than a little envy.

"Wow," Evie said.

"Ten years to spend $65-mill. … Eternity to burn in the pit," Dean said.

"OK, I'll take her," Sam offered. "You two wanna take super fan 99?"

* * *

Evie judgmentally eyed every brick in the modern loft as they approached its solid mahogany door.

"Bet you twenty bucks dungeon master here made a deal and his favorite actress moved out from L.A., bought this loft, and now they're playing house," she said showing Dean Harold Royce's photograph.

Dean did a double-take. Harold was an overweight 34-year-old man whose face was covered in acne and who rarely bathed. He hadn't brushed his hair in weeks. His wardrobe included flannel shirts, ripped jeans, and three T-shirts. He changed once a week. Not all of that was apparent from the photograph—a two-year-old portrait he had submitted for an online MMO RPG guild application, which showed him in a dirty black T-shirt and flannel shirt, his hair greasy and uncombed, and a five-o'clock shadow growing on his pizza face.

"Who'd he sell his soul for?" Dean asked.

"Parker Amber," Evie read. She shuffled more papers and found a photograph of the actress.

"Whoa," Dean exhaled. He brandished a huge, toothy grin.

"Face lift and fake boobs," Evie said shortly. She put her papers back in the folder and knocked firmly three times on the door. The door opened slowly, revealing an elderly woman.

"Um, hi," Dean said with uncertainty. "We're looking for Harold Royce."

Dean and Evie flashed badges.

"Oh," the woman said with surprise, trying to read the badges over her thick glasses.

"Harold!" she called over her shoulder.

"Not now, Ma!" a male voice called from inside the loft.

Dean pushed open the door. "May we?" Dean and Evie passed Harold's mom.

"Harold!" Dean called. "IRS. We need to speak with you."

They walked through a well-appointed foyer and came into an open living room. The décor was minimalist, but the room featured a mini grand piano and built-in bookshelves. The far wall was covered with floor-to-ceiling windows.

Parker Amber sat in a white leather chair near the windows, texting furiously, thumbs flying over the keys expertly. She looked like she had just come from the salon: her makeup was perfect—and heavily painted on, like she was going to a photo shoot or a red carpet event—and her long, brown hair was shiny with every strand in its place.

They stopped a few feet into the room. Evie waited a few seconds for Dean to take the lead. The only sounds were Harold's mom slowly closing the heavy door and the tapping of Parker's thumbs on her phone's keyboard. After several seconds passed and Dean didn't say anything, Evie looked over; he was gazing stupidly at the actress, his mouth slightly ajar.

Evie stuck her tongue out at Dean like a child would to spite her older brother, knowing he wouldn't notice.

"Excuse us, Ms. Amber," she started.

"It's Mrs. Royce," the actress replied without breaking her texting stride.

"Mrs. Royce," Evie continued. "Could we ask you a few questions?"

"What is this about?" Parker asked impetuously in a high-pitched, California-girl voice.

"_Shoot me, shoot me now. Or her. Whoever,"_ Evie thought.

"It's about your new husband," Dean said.

"Harold!" Parker exclaimed and set her phone down on the arm of her chair. "Please, sit!"

"Thank you," Dean said. He and Evie sat in matching white leather chairs across from Parker.

"So, you want to talk about Harold?" Parker asked, excited. "I love talking about Harold."

"How did you two lovebirds meet?" Evie asked.

"Oh, I love this story," Parker replied. "I was living in Hollywood, and Harold wrote me a letter and signed it with his address. I always ignored fan letters, but there was just something special about his. I couldn't stop thinking about him. He was such a poet."

She stood and crossed the room to a framed letter. "Actually, I loved it so much that I framed it."

Evie and Dean walked over to read the letter out of obligation. The letter detailed the mesmerizing beauty of Parker's bosom, lips, and eyes, and compared each of them to a variety of nerdy-sounding things. It made Dean want to puke. It made Evie want to experience some testosterone driven fun, like shooting someone.

"Doesn't the beauty of it just make you want to cry?" Parker asked.

"It really does!" Evie enthusiastically agreed.

"Baby doll, you don't have to show everybody the letter," Harold exclaimed, obviously embarrassed, barreling into the room from a hallway that presumably led to bedrooms.

"Oh, but, it was so … um, special," Dean said.

"Special," Evie agreed.

Parker beamed and gripped her new husband's arm. She appeared to be truly smitten. Harold, however, appeared nervous. His fake smile matched his uneasy stance, shifting from left foot to right foot.

"So, um, where did you guys say you were from?" he asked breathily.

* * *

Sam sat in Shirley Carr's kitchen, nursing a mug of instant chai tea. Shirley, a tubby, middle-aged red-head, sat across the cheap kitchen table with her own mug of tea and a huge smile. Sam had been listening to her blab about all the things that had come with her newfound fortune and all the new friends that had come with her newfound popularity. He had been sitting in the same spot for thirty minutes and couldn't get a word in. All he had been able to relay to Shirley was that he was a newspaper reporter. That was enough to wind her up, and she was still going.

"Oh, I never thought I could win," she said. "I mean, the most I've ever won is a dollar or two on a scratch-off. But, when that nice man at the mini mart told me I looked lucky, I decided to play, and look!"

"What man?" Sam interjected.

"Well … he was very handsome and flirty," Shirley said, smiling coyly. "We talked about the $65 million pot, and he said I looked like a winner and that I should buy a ticket, so I did."

"Can you tell me more about this man?"

"I guess," Shirley replied, looking confused. "He was dressed in a really nice suit. And … I guess he was thirty-something. And … he had an accent like he wasn't from around here. Very well-spoken. Sophisticated. The kind of man every woman wants. Just like you …." She winked.

"Uh … " Sam quickly redirected the subject to the man. "So this man told you to play the lottery?"

"Yes."

"Did he ask for anything in return?"

She paused. "Well …" she said, avoiding eye contact. "He wanted … my soul."

Sam's face dropped.

"I thought that was ridiculous, but, I agreed," she said. "I mean, it's $65 million! And, I'm not really religious. It's not like he could've been serious!" She giggled nervously.

"What was the name of that mini mart?"

* * *

Dean sat, elbows on his knees, facing Harold in one of those soft, white leather chairs.

"So, Harold, level with me, man," Dean said, conspiratorially. "How did you score a hot piece like that?"

Harold's tense demeanor relaxed slightly. He grinned.

"I'm just blessed, that's all," Harold replied.

"Oh, come on," Dean said.

The two locked eyes for an uncomfortably long silence. The twittering of the ladies' laughter wafted from across the apartment. Evie was touring the place with Parker. Dean was sure Evie was slowly dying inside. Figuratively speaking. Mostly.

The uncomfortable silence continued. Dean was about to say something to further endear himself to his new buddy when Harold spoke.

"Guys like you never believe that I could score a woman like Parker," he said. His lower lip whimpered through a scowl. He looked pitiful. "Why can't you just believe that she loves me?" Harold asked.

Dean's mouth opened as he tried to think of something to say to excuse himself.

"That jerk didn't believe I could get her, either," Harold said. "But I showed him."

"What jerk?" Dean asked, his attention piqued.

"A pretty boy … like you," he accused. "Met him at Tommy's Place, the bar across the street from the place I play Magic. It's a wicked store, Lore Master's Den. They got everything."

"Wait. Magic?" Dean asked, genuinely confused.

"The Gathering," Harold informed, with a frustrated sigh. "It's a game."

"Ah," Dean said, not completely understanding.

"Anyway," Harold continued, "My friend, David, and I went out for a beer after a Magic tournament, and there was this pretty boy asshole sitting at the bar. I guess he heard me tell David I was gonna write a fan letter to Parker. The jerk comes over and tells me I'll never get her because I'm a loser."

Harold looked at the floor, embarrassed. Then, suddenly, he lifted his head and stared Dean in the eyes.

"I'm the guy the jocks gave wedgies and then stuffed into his locker," Harold admitted. "I'm sure you know the type. I'm tired of being that guy! So, I told that ass wipe I'd show him, I'd get her. And he said, 'Wanna bet?' So, I bet."

"What did you bet, Harold?" Dean asked, seriously.

Harold didn't answer. He looked anywhere but Dean's eyes.

"Harold?"

"I mean, I didn't think it was real," Harold said, guiltily. "Until she showed up, like, at my door." Tears welled up in Harold's eyes.

"That ass wipe wanted your soul, didn't he, Harold?" Dean insisted.

Harold just shook his head 'yes.'"

Dean sighed. "If I wanted to find him …"

"Why would you want to find him?" Harold panicked. "You don't want what he's selling! I mean, don't get me wrong, being with Parker is a dream come true, but … all I can think about is what's gonna happen to me in ten years."

"Oh, I'm not buying," Dean said assuredly. "I'm here to put him out of business."

* * *

Dean and Evie met Sam outside Shirley Carr's house fifteen minutes later.

"Definitely a demon," Sam asserted, closing the door. The car pulled away from the curb.

"No question," Dean replied. "But our guy wasn't the standard deal. This demon challenged the poor loser into selling his soul."

"Huh," Sam muttered. "He flirted Shirley Carr into buying her winning lottery ticket."

"Where did Mr. Charm convince her to buy the ticket?" Evie asked.

"Marsden's Mini Mart," Sam said.

"Harold Royce met the demon at a bar, Tommy's Place," Dean said. "Near some gamer store called Lore Master's Den."

"Well, where do we look first?" Sam asked.

Evie rolled her eyes. She saw the look in Dean's eye in the rearview, and she knew the answer.

"The bar," Dean said with a grin.

"The bar. Let's hope they have good burgers," Evie said.

* * *

Dean stopped to take a breath, then continued chewing the delicious beef bomb in his mouth. Tommy's Place made a damn tasty burger.

They were looking for an unusually handsome, charming man in a sharp suit. That wouldn't be difficult to spot in this dive. The three hunters stuck out like sore thumbs in their suits, even without the jackets and ties.

"Well, so far, everyone here screams 'regular,'" Sam said.

"We're not even through dinner," Evie said. "Be patient. I'm sure he has to make the rounds."

Four drinks and three hours later, all but two other small groups had left the bar. No one was choosing music from the juke box anymore. The bar tender had been polishing the same glasses for the last hour.

"OK, ladies and gents, I don't think he's gonna show," Dean said. "I'm calling it."

"Let me finish my drink," Evie said. She swirled the whiskey in her glass, sniffed it, and upturned the glass, taking the last of it in one swig. "OK, let's go."

Just as they started shuffling off their stools, the door opened, and a strikingly handsome man in a sharp suit entered the near-empty tavern. He took a seat at the bar, and quietly ordered a drink.

"Speak of the devil," Evie said.

"Finally!" Dean said. "Let's get this ass hat." Dean started to stand up.

"Wait, Dean," Evie whispered. "Have a little finesse."

Dean looked confused.

"Follow my lead," she whispered. Much louder, she called out, "Guys, just give me the chance to show you what I can do. I promise I'll have the report finished by Monday!"

Sam caught on to Evie's ploy. "No! Look, I don't mean to be politically incorrect, but there's just no other way to say it: This isn't a job for a woman." He stood, glancing slyly at Dean, who followed suite.

"I'm sorry, _Angela_," Dean said loudly. "Have the files I asked for on my desk first thing Monday morning. Keep up the good work as my secretary and maybe in a few months, we'll talk again about a promotion."

Evie looked down at the table and whispered "Meet you outside." She fidgeted a little to sell the act as Sam and Dean left the bar. She looked up, fake tears sparkling in her downtrodden eyes, just as the door closed. The demon looked her way. Good. The ploy worked.

She overplayed a sigh and headed to the bar with her empty glass.

"Can I get another?" she asked quietly, plopping down two stools down from the handsome demon. He didn't waste any time in shifting seats to sit next to her.

"It's none of my business, but I thought their behavior was appalling," he said suavely. "A smart, independent woman like you should be in a high position in the company, don't you agree?"

"Wow, this guy gets right to the point," Evie thought.

She faked a hopeful look.

"I don't mean to be too bold, but I know I can help you," he said.

"How?" Evie asked, shooting her whiskey refill.

He leaned in and whispered, "We trade."

Evie looked around, then leaned in conspiratorially. "Wait." She motioned to the bartender with her eyes. "Can we talk outside, alone?"

He hesitated for just a second, then agreed. "After you."

Evie stood and led her mark outside the bar. She hoped the boys were watching as she led the demon a block down the street. She walked quickly, head down. She heard the tell-tale rumble of the Impala stalking from behind. She slowed her gait.

The car approached quickly and stopped with a screech of rubber. Sam and Dean popped out. Sam opened the trunk while Dean and Evie surrounded the unsuspecting demon. Dean slapped on the handcuffs etched with demon binding magic, and they shoved him into the trunk, complete with devil's trap, before he could smoke out of his meat suit.

* * *

Sam, Dean, and Evie stood over the demon.

"You wanna … ?" Dean offered Evie.

Evie lifted the demon out of the trunk by his fancy collared shirt.

"What could Winchesters possibly want with me?" he asked over his shoulder as Evie pushed him into the abandoned warehouse where the walls were covered in sigils. A lonely chair sat atop a red spray-painted devil's trap. Near the chair was a stainless steel table covered with a variety of tools—a hammer, a wrench, a scalpel, various instruments that looked like they belonged to a nightmare dentist, and a bottle of clear liquid.

Evie gave the demon one final shove in the back, then she walked to the table, rolling her sleeves to her elbows. Dean guided the demon to the chair and roughly sat him down. The demon looked nervously back and forth from Dean to Sam to Evie. None of the hunters spoke a word.

Evie teasingly ran her finger along one tool then another. The demon tensely eyed her every move. She finally chose a knife, Ruby's knife, sauntered over to the captive demon, and stood before him. She stared him in the eyes but still didn't say a word.

The demon laughed nervously and said, "I'm usually pretty open-minded, honey, but I don't think a three-man foursome is my bag."

Evie still did not speak. Neither did Sam nor Dean, who lurked in the shadows.

The demon licked his lips. "Look, just tell me what you want and I'll see what I can do for you …"

Evie plunged the knife into the demon's thigh. He screamed in agony, gasping for air. Smoke billowed from the wound.

Evie bent down to the demon's level. "Crowley," she growled through clenched teeth.

"What?" the demon yelped desperately.

"Crowley," she repeated slowly, as if she were pronouncing it for a 3-year-old. "I want Crowley."

She yanked the knife out. The demon breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey! Pay attention!" Evie yelled. She poked under the demon's chin with the tip of the knife. "Crowley. Where is he?"

"No, no, no," the demon rattled. "I don't even know. I mean, why would I know where the king is? I mean, even if I did …"

Evie sliced his right cheek. He shrieked in pain.

"This isn't demon foreplay or happy playtime!" Evie emphasized. "Let me clarify this situation: We trade. You tell me where Crowley is and I don't kill you slowly."

"I don't know where Crowley is!" the demon yelled.

"Sucks for you," Evie said, roughly replacing the knife in the open thigh wound. The demon howled. She returned to the tool table and chose one of the dental instruments, dipped it in the bottle of liquid—holy water—and brought it back to her subject.

"Where's Crowley?" she asked, holding the pointy instrument to the demon's eye.

"I don't know! I don't know!" the demon insisted. "But, I talked to my boss two weeks ago! He knows where Crowley is! Please, take the knife out! Please!"

Evie pulled the knife out slowly, never breaking eye contact as the demon shrieked. Now, she held a weapon in each hand.

"I'm listening," she said.

"You have to promise …" the demon started.

Evie sliced his other cheek with the knife.

"Try again," she said, emotionless.

"She's better at this than you are," Sam whispered to Dean.

"OK!" the demon yelled. "My boss … Denholm, he's my boss, but we've become friends. He tells me things."

Evie motioned with the knife for him to continue.

"I reported in two weeks ago. After we talked about my deals, he started bitching about this job the king had him working on," the demon said. "I was impressed. I mean, the king. I've never even met him."

"I have," Evie said, clearly unimpressed.

"You've met the king?!" the demon exclaimed, star-struck. "What is he like?"

"You'd better give me something or you'll find out," Evie threatened. "What was the job?"

"Crowley wanted Denholm to find a vampire for him," the demon said. "Denholm thought that was beneath him."

"Did he find the vamp?" Dean asked, leaving his hiding place in the shadows.

"Of course!" the demon said impetuously. "Crowley could have done it himself! You two monkeys could have found him," he said indicating Sam and Dean with a nod of his head. "And, you, such a deft, beautiful, competent woman …"

"Where's the vamp?" Evie interrupted.

The demon hesitated. He was thinking. "I can't …" he said.

Evie became furious.

"Listen, you douche bag …" Dean started in.

Evie jammed the holy water-laced tool into the demon's right eye. Sam and Dean both winced.

"You can't … 'see'?" Evie sarcastically filled in the blank. "Yeah, you have a tooth cleaner thingy in your eye."

"Take it out!" the demon screeched at the top of his human lungs.

Evie pulled the tool out, leaving the demon's face a bloody mess.

"New York! He frequents a goth club there!" the demon spilled. "I swear!"

Sam pulled out a small notepad. "You got an address?"

* * *

"We're just gonna leave him there like that?" Sam asked as the three hunters made their final trip to the car.

"Yep," Evie said finally.

"Wouldn't be safer to kill him?"

Evie stopped short of opening the back door of the Impala. "Yes, it would be, Sam," she answered shortly. "But I want him to be available when word spreads that he helped us find Crowley."

She got into the car and closed the door.

"You're right. She's really good at this," Dean said over the roof of the Impala.

* * *

"So, what does one wear to a _goth_ club?" Dean asked with more than a little distaste.

He, Sam, and Evie sat in a motel a few blocks from the club.

"Black?" Sam replied.

"I got this, boys," Evie said, "but, we need to go shopping." She eyeballed Sam and Dean's casual flannel and denim fashion.

"I hate shopping," Dean said.

They walked down the street to Lady Eden's Consignments. Dean stopped short and gazed warily at the mannequin in the display window—a male figure donning a black leather number featuring a spiked choker and cap.

"What?" Evie asked.

"No," Dean stated.

"Why not?" she asked.

"I'm not dressing like Judas Priest," Dean said.

"Give it a shot before you knock it. Besides, you can't even get into the club wearing that," Evie said, referring his jeans, T-shirt, and flannel shirt.

"Yes, I – Why not?" Dean asked. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

"You have to fit in," Evie said.

"I don't know that we'll fit in," Sam added, "even dressed like Judas Priest."

"Just follow my lead, boys." Evie grinned impishly.

* * *

Evie stepped out in black, leather, over-the-knee boots with buckles and straps looping around her calf, a black asymmetrical skirt whose hem skimmed Evie's bum on one side and stretched nearly to the floor on the other, a black, strapless corset, and laced-up, elbow-length, black gloves. Her eyes were painted black and smoky.

She yanked on the chains in her hand, and giggled to herself as Sam and Dean both tripped forward. The chains connected to the collars around their necks. Both wore black leather pants and boots. Sam donned a black T-shirt and a black leather jacket, while Dean showed off his biceps in a black leather vest with multiple zippers. Both looked terribly uncomfortable.

"Rules," Evie whispered. "You're playing slaves. Don't speak unless spoken to or I give you permission to speak. Walk behind me. Look meek. Got it?"

Dean looked taken aback, his eyes round like saucers.

"Oooookay," Sam agreed.

"Sam, I feel dirty," Dean whispered.

As they approached the club, Evie held the chains casually at her side and let her hips sway saucily from side to side. A long line had already formed outside; it was packed with twenty-year-old vampire wannabes in black hoodies and pleather skirts. A big, burly bouncer eagerly watched their approach, a plethora of erotic comic book images flashing through his dirty mind. Evie bypassed the line, moving straight to the bearded man with all the authority.

"Uh, Evie," Sam whispered. "The line's back ..."

"Shhh."

Evie stopped right in front of the bouncer without saying a word. He checked her out from head to toe, then nodded slightly in approval and moved aside. She walked ahead, pulling Sam and Dean behind her, leaving the "boos" and disappointed gasps of those stuck in line.

"Damn," Dean said. Sam smirked.

Evie led them straight to the bar, where she ordered whiskey, neat. Dean spoke up before the bartender could leave. "Hey, uh, I'll have a beer," he said.

Evie turned around and slapped Dean in the face before he knew what had happened. He stared at her, mouth wide open. She gingerly placed her finger across his lips, then turned back to the bartender. "Sammy will have a beer, and Dean here will have water with lemon," she said, motioning to Dean with the slightest nod of her head.

The bartender grinned and went about getting the drinks.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked, flabbergasted.

"That was me staying in character and putting you back in your place," Evie answered.

Sam couldn't hide his smile.

"Jerk!" Dean said.

"Bitch!" Sam laughed.

The bartender delivered their drinks. "One whiskey, one beer, and one water with lemon."

"Drink up, boys," Evie said, looking straight at Dean. She and Sam shared an amused grin. Evie sipped her whiskey and looked around the dark, loud club. And, suddenly, she smelled it. Scotch and sulfur. She almost dropped her glass. She turned quickly to place it on the bar.

"What?" Dean asked, concerned. The boys surrounded her.

Her breathing quickened, and with each breath, she was overwhelmed with the stench of aged scotch and pure evil. She could sense his path through the club, where he had been and where he was, as if a malevolent cloud hung over everything he had touched.

"He's here," she said.

Dean's eyes darted around. It was too dark, too crowded. And, that little limey was too damn short, anyway. They'd never be able to pick him out of a crowd.

"Where?"

Evie carefully turned. Her gaze cut through the crowd on the dance floor, directly to Crowley, who sat in a booth with a dark figure she couldn't quite see.

"That must be the vamp," she said.

"Where?" Dean asked again.

"The booth straight ahead," she said.

"I see him," Sam said. "It's not the Alpha. Must be another high-level."

"OK, so, we found 'em," Dean said, reaching into Sam's jacket for the guns. "Let's get 'em."

"Hold on," Sam said, closing his jacket. "We can't go in guns blazing."

"Why not?"

"Look at where we are, genius," Evie said. "Too many people. And, it's not just Crowley."

"Which is why we brought dead man's blood," Dean said. "We talked about this."

"Yeah, but, Dean, what are we supposed to do?" Evie asked. "Just walk over there, jab the vamp full of dead man's blood, slap the chains on Crowley, and carry them both out the front door?"

"Well, yeah," Dean said.

While they were talking, none of them had noticed that the occupants of the booth had gone their separate ways, and that one of those ways had been a beeline to the hunters at the bar.

"Well, well, well," said Crowley. "If it isn't Moose, Squirrel, and my new favorite meat gown."

Sam, Dean, and Evie all froze. The first to react was Evie. Pulling the demon knife from her boot, she jabbed at Crowley's midsection with all her strength, but he caught her by the wrist just before the knife's point touched his lapel. Evie's arm was shaking, still pushing toward the demon, but Crowley's arm was steady.

"You managed to find me, I'll give you that," he said calmly. "But did you really think you'd just waltz in here and sweep me off my feet?" He grinned wickedly. "Evie, dear, you know I like it kinky." They followed his gaze over their shoulders. They vampire loomed ominously.

"Damn it," Dean said.

"I thought I'd bring a friend," Crowley said. "Hope you're ready to party, boys, but first things first."

Crowley overpowered Evie's wrist, and took the knife. "This is mine," he stated, placing the knife in an inside pocket of his suit.

The vamp flashed his pointy teeth. "I want the girl," he said lustily.

"No, absolutely not," Crowley said firmly. "The girl is mine. Hands and teeth off. Understand?"

"But she's the most tender," the vamp said, sniffing the air.

Crowley grabbed Evie's bicep protectively.

"Listen here, you—"

_Flutter of wings._

Castiel appeared behind Crowley. He placed a warning hand on Cowley's shoulder. "Take your filthy hand off her."

Crowley barely reacted. "Ah, Castiel."

The vampire's face dropped. "You're an—"

"Yes, an angel, oh my," Crowley said, rolling his eyes.

The vampire turned to run, but Castiel blocked his path. "I'll meet you out back," he said to his friends. In a flutter, he, the vamp, and Crowley were all gone.

* * *

Sam, Dean, and Evie approached Castiel and Crowley. The vamp was already dead, corpse laying haphazardly on the ground near Castiel's feet.

Evie handed Sam the keys she had kept safe in her corset. He proceeded to unlock his and Dean's collars and replace them on Crowley's neck. Cas was able to relax. He turned to Evie, and she abruptly slapped him across the face.

"Where the Hell have you been?!" she yelled. She glared at Cas through squinted eyes, then suddenly grabbed the back of his neck, pulling his face toward her. She kissed him hard, and he returned it.

Crowley whistled.

"I'm sorry, Evie," Cas said.

"You're sorry?! I prayed to you!"

"I know," Cas said guiltily.

Surprise crossed Evie's face. "You KNOW? You heard me?"

"Trouble in paradise?" Crowley asked.

"We'll take care of this …" Dean said.

"Yeah," Sam said uncomfortably. He and Dean hastily headed to the car with Crowley in tow.

Evie continued to stare a hole in Castiel, who was nearly squirming.

"I was trying to track down the human tablet, to keep it safe, to keep you safe," Cas appealed.

"We're doing the same thing, Cas! We could work together! You don't have to run off and be some kind of …" Evie struggled for words.

"Superman?" Cas offered.

Cas reached out and stroked Evie's cheek with his fingers. She plucked his hand from her face and held it tightly. "If I pray to you, you answer," she said. "Got it?"

He nodded.

* * *

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

"_Hey!" a muffled scream._

"Three more days of this crap, huh?" Evie asked, unamused.

"It's not the first time we've driven cross-country with the king of Hell in the trunk," Dean said with a smirk.

"Why would Crowley meet with a vampire?" Cas asked.

"Why does Crowley do anything he does?" Sam responded.

"He must have been making a deal," Dean said. "That's what he does, right?"

"The Alpha wouldn't deal with him, not after he had Samuel capture him so he could torture him," Sam said.

"He must have had something to offer," Cas said.

"I think I know what he was dealing," Evie said. "When he tortured me, he made me drink this nasty stuff. It's like it healed everything he did to me."

"What do you mean 'healed'?" Dean asked.

"He'd slice, it'd hurt like hell, then the wound was gone. Like it never happened," Evie said. "I don't know how. My sulfur allergy's gone, too."

"Holy hell," Dean said.

"Damn it," said Sam.

"Maybe he was planning to trade this healing potion for the location of the tablet," Cas suggested. "We need to question him to find out what he knows."

"_Wouldn't you like to know?!" _Crowley yelled from the trunk.

"Let's look for somewhere to stop," Evie said.

* * *

"Do you really think you can make me talk?" Crowley asked. "I mean, Squirrel's the only one here with any experience, and he's useless."

"You haven't shut up since we threw you in the trunk," Evie said.

"Touché," Crowley responded.

"We need information," Cas said.

"Obviously, or we wouldn't be having this pleasant conversation," Crowley said.

"Well, if you want to keep it pleasant …" Dean said.

"You know I don't," Crowley teased.

"Oh, I was hoping you'd say that," Evie said, with a dark grin.

Crowley revealed a satisfied smile. "That's it, young one," he said. "Let the hate flow through you."

Evie abruptly grabbed Ruby's knife from Sam's hand and plunged it into Crowley's left shoulder blade. Crowley howled with pain and rage. Evie leaned in close to his ear, hands poised on her knees, and whispered, "What were you trading that potion for?"

Crowley laughed between gasps for air. "You'll have to do better than that, sweetheart."

"Oh, this isn't even foreplay … _sweetheart_," Evie said. She removed the knife. "I know what the potion could do for vampires," she said. "What I need to know is what you were going to get in return."

Evie and Crowley shared thirty seconds of silence, comparing poker faces and wills.

"This is pointless," Sam said. "He won't tell us."

"He doesn't know where the tablet is," Evie said with certainty.

Crowley blinked nervously.

"How do you know that?" Sam asked.

"I just know," she said, never taking her eyes off Crowley. He wouldn't meet her gaze.

"She's right," Dean said. "He thinks the vamps know where it is. He was gonna trade this potion for the location of the tablet."

"The alpha vampire is ancient," Cas said. "It is possible he could have information about the tablet's whereabouts."

"Look, fellas … and lady," Crowley said. "We need to get ahead of the vampires on this."

"Oh, now he wants to cooperate," Sam said.

"It would behoove all of us to work together on this one, Moose," Crowley said. "You don't want the vampires to have the tablet. The things they could do to the human race …"

"I hate to agree, but he's right," Cas said.

Evie's face grew tighter and tighter. Finally, she exploded. She stormed out of the little shed they had commandeered.

"Cas, go get her," Dean said.

Castiel turned to follow her outside.

"Yes, Cas, go retrieve your better half," Crowley teased. "I may have ninety-nine problems, but … well …"

Cas, who caught the reference, sped toward Crowley. He reared back and punched Crowley so hard that the demon, and the chair he was chained to, flew backward, crashing into the wall of the shed. Crowley slowly turned his head back, cracking his neck and spitting blood.

Cas didn't wait to see this reaction; he was already out the door. He found Evie leaning against a tree. Every few seconds, she pulled back and punched it while muttering to herself. Cas rushed to her. He gently grasped her hand; the knuckles were bloody but the wounds had already healed. He kissed them, and the blood disappeared.

Evie took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I can't," she said, her voice shaking.

"I know how hard it must be for you," Cas said.

"No, Cas, I can't work with Crowley," she said.

"I said the same thing once," Cas said, looking down at their intertwined fingers as they held hands in the dark. "And, then, well … you know the rest, I guess."

"Yeah, and look how that worked out for you," she said.

Cas closed his eyes and nodded in agreement.

"I understand if you don't want to go any further," Cas said, "but I have to, to save the human race. Crowley is the closest thing to a lead I have found. He may be the only way to the tablet, and we have to find it before anyone else does."

Evie clenched her teeth. "Shit!" she muttered and stomped the ground with her boot.

"Will you be with me?" Evie asked, revealing the uncertainty she felt.

"Yes," Cas reassured her. He leaned his head down and kissed her.

Cas wrapped his strong arm around her shoulders, and they walked toward the door. Dean met them just outside.

"So, we have a little problem," Dean said.

"Since when is a Winchester problem ever little?" Evie responded.

"Crowley gave a sample of the potion to a vamp nest," Dean said.

"It's out?!" Evie exclaimed.

"He said he only gave them one vial, which, he says, should work on two humans," Dean said. "How much did he give you?"

"A whole vial," Evie said.

"What's in it, anyway?" Dean asked.

"I have no idea," Evie responded. "I just know it cured my sulfur allergy, my knees don't hurt when I run anymore, and …" She pulled a knife from her boot and sliced her forearm. An opening appeared for one second, then disappeared. It wasn't open long enough for blood to drip out.

"Whoa," Dean said. "So, those poor bastards are being sucked dry, only they never dry up."

"They're cattle," Cas said. "I have to stop it. Where's the nest?"

"He won't tell us," Dean said. "Sam and I are putting out an APB."

Sam brushed through the door, phone to his ear. "Yeah, yeah," Sam said into the phone. "I can be there … soon." He looked up at Cas. "OK, I'll call you when I get in town. Thanks, Roger."

"Got a bite," Sam said to the others.

"Roger?" Dean asked. "Like, Carroll, Iowa, '98, Roger?"

"Yeah," Sam said.

"That idiot almost got Dad killed!" Dean exclaimed.

"I know, Dean, but he saw a vamp suck on a human and the wound healed right before his eyes," Sam said. "It might be the nest we're looking for. Cas, you can get us there now, right?" Sam asked.

"Yes," Cas answered.

"We can't leave Crowley," Evie said.

"You must stay," Cas told Evie

"No, no, no, me stay and you go?" she exclaimed. "Cas!"

"Evie, I have to go," he said. "I have to stop this as quickly as possible, but Sam and Dean will stay with you."

"Cas, I think I should go with you," Sam said. "Roger's my contact, and he's not the most stable, from what I recall. If an angel teleports in there …"

"OK, good," Dean said eagerly. "You two go take care of that. Evie and I'll hold down the fort."

Evie stood before Cas, gently touching his lapel and looking up into his steely blue eyes. "When I pray, you answer. K?" she said.

He smiled at her and nodded. Behind Evie's back Dean pantomimed a whipping noise and motion. Cas' smile faded as his eyes focused on Dean. Evie turned and shot a disapproving glance at Dean, who looked at the ground like a student caught throwing a spitball when the teacher turns around.

"OK, let's take care of this," Sam said.

Cas placed two fingers on Sam's forehead, and the two of them disappeared.

"_Hey! Are you bloody morons just going to leave me here?!"_ Crowley's voice called from inside the shed.

"OK, well, let's take care of _that_," Dean said.

* * *

_A knock on the door._

Evie wearily crossed the cheap motel room. They had driven for several more hours with Crowley tied up in the trunk before deciding to stop, not only to sleep but to get a break from Crowley's constant bitching. She opened the door to find Dean, complete with his duffle bag.

"They, uh, kicked me out of my room," Dean said.

"What?" Evie asked. She made it obvious that she didn't believe him.

"Well, they didn't kick me out," Dean admitted, waltzing into the room, hands in his pockets. "I offered. An elderly couple needed a room."

"Since when are you a charity?" she asked.

"They were like ninety!" Dean exclaimed.

"Well, then, it sounds like you're sleeping in the car," Evie said.

"With chatter box in the trunk?" he asked.

Evie sighed, knowing this was a losing battle. She was too tired to have this fight right now. "Fine!" she gave in. "But, you're sleeping on the floor."

Dean wordlessly motioned to the king size bed. He pouted, then just dropped his bag next to the bed in defeat.

* * *

Sometime in the night, Dean had climbed into the bed unbeknownst to either of them. He ungracefully rolled over, his left knee and hand pressing against Evie's hip and waist, jostling her awake. He breathed heavily, nearly snoring. He was obviously in a deep sleep and unaware of his actions, but Evie was still not pleased. Somehow he was doing this on purpose. She just knew it. She looked to her right: three-fourths of an inch between her right side and the edge of the bed. She looked to her left: Dean's cocky, handsome, sleeping form pressed against her and half the bed empty on the other side. It was too much.

She shoved him away from her; it became easier as he woke and pulled away.

"Dean, if you're not going to stay on the floor, at least stay on your side of the bed," she said.

Dean wiped a dribble of drool from the side of his mouth. He blinked a few times. "Ok, ok," he said. "Geez."

He rolled over, turning his back to his mattress partner. Evie did the same. After a few minutes, she felt the mattress dip ever so slightly. Dean moved slowly, very, very slowly; he thought she was asleep. Evie also moved slowly, very, very slowly. Her hand caressed the knife she had stashed under her pillow. She felt Dean's hand brush gingerly against her bare shoulder. She nimbly brought the knife's blade to his knuckles so swiftly that his arrogant smile hadn't even had time to fade.

"Take your fingers off me, or I will take them off for you," she stated matter-of-factly, without looking back.

"What's your problem?" Dean mumbled under his breath.

"What is _your_ problem?" Evie yelled, sitting up and stabbing the knife into the headboard.

Dean rolled over and propped himself up on an elbow. "I asked you first."

"My problem is your jealousy!" Evie said.

Dean's face scrunched, and his eyes rolled.

"Huh," Evie snorted. "Or is it ego?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked, as if that was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

"Cas," she replied. "You can't stand it."

"Can't stand what?"

"That the soft-spoken angel in the dorky clothes gets the girl in his bed while God's-gift-to-womankind Dean Winchester gets to bunk with his brother every night."

"Me, jealous of Cas?" Dean snorted. "Oh, please! If I wanted y—" He stopped short. He knew he had said the wrong thing.

"Get out!" Evie said. "You're bunking with the garbage in the trunk!"

"Evie," Dean said softly.

"No! Don't even try it," Evie said. "What did you think, Dean? That I'd be that same, pathetic girl who doted on your every move?"

"No, but, come on," Dean said. "I mean, Cas is—"

"Cas is there!"

"I was there!"

"Oh, yeah," Evie said with sarcasm. "You were there until I woke up one morning to the weight of killing horrible monsters I didn't even know existed … alone … and 'I'm sorry' taped to the mirror!"

Dean hung his head in shame.

"What's the matter, Dean?" Evie asked. "No brilliant one-liners?"

"Look, Evie, I was in over my head," Dean said quietly.

"Really? Because you seemed right at home to me," Evie said. "It was a walk in the park for you: Just vamps, and shifters, and demons. Business as usual."

"No, I mean, with you," Dean said.

"Huh," Evie snorted, rolling her eyes.

"Really," Dean said. "My feelings got too deep and I … I ran."

Evie's face softened a bit as she closed her eyes and thought carefully about what to say next. "Dean, I will always care about you," she started. "Maybe even love you."

Dean perked up.

"But … I love Cas," she finished.

Dean thought of a thousand things to say, but he knew none of them would matter. "You really love him?" Dean finally asked.

"Yeah," she answered. "I really love him."

"OK," he responded. "I'm sorry. I want you to be happy." It took everything in him to suppress his feelings, but he truly wanted her to be happy. He still loved her.

"Thank you," she said. She leaned over and kissed his cheek softly. They lingered cheek to cheek for several seconds. Neither of them knew it, but they both closed their eyes and savored the moment. What they had had all those years ago had been something special, and they both knew it.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

_(about 2001 or 2002)_

"Oh my God, oh my God!" Evie cried. "Matt!" She struggled against the rugged, handsome guy's grasp. He held Evie back with one arm and grasped a machete in the other. The bloody corpse of Evie's fiancé, Matt, lay on the ground, blood dripping from the bite holes in his neck.

"Let's go!" the man yelled. "We have to go now!"

The attacker appeared suddenly and grabbed the handsome man from behind. The man released his hold on Evie, and she shuffled away. As the two shadows struggled in the dark, Evie pulled out her off-duty weapon and aimed at the man who had bitten her fiancé. He had literally ripped Matt's throat out with his teeth. After a few seconds she saw a clean shot, and she took it. The bullet struck the attacker in the forehead, just above the left eyebrow. Blood poured from the wound, but the man didn't slow.

The attacker punched the handsome man with the machete so hard that he fell to the ground. Then, he turned to Evie, fury contorting his face. He snarled, revealing a mouthful of horrifying, pointy teeth.

Evie fired again, hitting him square in the chest. He looked down at the blood dripping from the wound, then started toward Evie again. She lowered her gun, astounded and afraid. All her training as a police officer left her. She froze.

She was staring into the monster's evil eyes when the handsome man with the machete, who had appeared out of nowhere just as it had attacked, beheaded it. The body remained standing for a few seconds while the head rolled and bounced on the sidewalk. Then, the body crumpled in a heap.

The man with the machete approached Evie cautiously. He knew the look in her eyes, the paralyzing fear and the confusion. He slowly took the gun from her.

"Come on," he said. "We have to go."

She looked at him then back to the crumpled heap of monster.

"What was that?" she asked desperately.

"I'll explain, but we have to go," he said. "Where do you live?"

* * *

Evie sat on the old couch in her apartment, staring at her hands. They were clean now. She had showered for forty-five minutes in steaming hot water and scrubbed until her skin was red. All the blood had washed away, spiraled down the drain, and she was wearing clean clothes, but she still felt tainted.

Paperwork and half-empty mugs covered the messy coffee table. The apartment was otherwise fairly clean, considering her line of work and the fact that she was rarely there.

Her eyes found the name on one of the files, "Lambert;" and one under that, "Dotson." She had been helping out on those cases for months, but there were no leads. She had only been a cop for six months, but she had already seen some strange things. Two men with absolutely nothing in common were killed in exactly the same way: exsanguination. Every drop of blood had been removed from the bodies, and the only wounds had been two small holes about one inch apart over the jugular.

Matt, Evie's fiancé, was studying to be an ME. He said the medical examiners were convinced the blood must have been drained some other way; there was no way it could have all drained through those two tiny holes. But, now, Evie knew they were all wrong. She knew how the blood was drained through those tiny holes: It was sucked out.

They had been walking, hand in hand, discussing the second-rate movie they had just seen and the new Italian restaurant they had tried tonight. And, then, Matt was screaming … well, trying to scream. She could hear the gasping, the gurgling, the slurping, all the disgusting sounds of desperation and dying.

She was mulling over this realization when there was a sudden, strong knock at her door. It jostled her back to reality, this new, terrible reality. She rose and crossed to the door, looking through the peep hole. She saw the man who had saved her life. They hadn't even had time for introductions. She opened the door.

He entered the room, and she stared at him expectantly.

"It's taken care of," he said. "We need to iron out your story."

"My …" Evie started. "My story is a freakin' vampire just killed my fiancé and two of our vics!"

"You can't go to the cops with that," he said.

"I am the cops!" she replied.

"Where do you think that story's gonna get you, huh?" he asked. "Early retirement straight to the looney bin."

"But I can't just pretend it didn't happen!" she exclaimed. "People are being murdered!"

"I know," he said.

"I have to help!" Evie said. "It's what I do."

The man sighed. He saw his usual argument would go nowhere. He looked around the living room of the small apartment and noted the coffee table covered with case files. This wasn't your run-of-the-mill cop. She lived and breathed the life. Just like he did.

"OK," he said resolutely. "If you want in, I can bring you in. But, you need to know: once you're in, there's no getting out."

"Until a couple hours ago, I thought serial killers and pedophiles were the worst monsters out there," Evie said. "I'll never get back out."

"I'm Dean," said the man, extending his hand.

"Evie," she replied, shaking it.

"Evie, we have about thirty seconds to lock down a story. We'll get to the rest later," Dean said.

* * *

"No, I heard yelling _after_ I was in the apartment," Evie told the detectives. Her voice cracked and tears streamed down her face. "I went to the window and saw Matt on the ground."

Maloney and Sims sat in her living room, each with a cup of tea Evie had forced on them. She knew these guys, and they knew her. She and Matt had had dinner with Maloney and his wife a few times. She was pretty sure he didn't suspect anything, but she wasn't so sure about Sims. While Maloney had been appreciative of her help on homicide cases, Sims had seemed offended. He had followed his partner's lead, but only because he was a veteran of the department and Sims had only recently been transferred to homicide.

"So, you ran down three flights of stairs with your service weapon, without calling 911, and ran into a crime scene?" Sims pressed. "And, you fired three shots?"

"Two," Evie said.

"Hey, cool it, Sims," Maloney said.

"I'm just saying we got a 911 call from some random bystander, not the fiancé, - the cop," Sims continued, accusingly.

"I said 'that's enough,'" Malone said firmly. "She's one of ours. And, you have the nerve to come into her home and talk to her like this."

"Maloney," Evie interjected. "He's just being thorough."

"Matt's death really got to you, huh? I'm so sorry, Foster," Maloney said sympathetically.

She shook her head, and another tear streamed down her cheek. "I didn't call 911, Sims. I think I … I don't know," she said. She sighed, taking a moment to go over Dean's speed coaching in her mind. "I just reacted. When I got down there and I saw Matt … I thought I saw a shadow, and I fired. It was totally irresponsible."

"So you fired two shots at nothing?" Sims asked.

"I don't know. Maybe it was a dog or something," she said.

"Great," Sims said ironically. "So you killed someone's dog."

Maloney passed Evie the box of tissue from the coffee table. "We've got all we need here. You take it easy, Foster," he said.

Sims started to protest, but Malone shut him down. "We'll put a detail on your apartment."

"No, that's not necessary, Frank," Evie said.

"My concern is for your safety. Your fiancé was murdered by the psycho you've been hunting," Maloney said. "He's obviously targeting you."

"Then, why didn't he follow me upstairs?" she asked, trying to lead Maloney in another direction.

"Evelyn, I won't take 'no' for an answer," Malone insisted.

Evie wanted desperately to get the cops off her back, but she couldn't seem desperate. She had to compromise, at least _seem_ concerned for her own safety. "A neighborhood patrol will be enough. I don't want to be treated like a case! OK?"

"Stubborn as a freakin' mule." Malone rolled his eyes. "OK. Patrol it is. Chief gave you some time off?"

"Yeah, and I've got time saved up, too," Evie answered.

"Good. Take as much time as you need," Maloney said. "You know you can call me or Julia if you need anything."

"Thanks, Frank."

She saw the detectives out. As soon as the front door was shut, Dean emerged from the bedroom closet.

"You make a decent actress … for a cop," Dean said.

"I guess I'll take that as a compliment," Evie said.

* * *

"How much experience do you have with blades?" Dean asked.

"Not much," Evie replied. "Firearms, yeah, but cops don't really use knives."

"I'm not just talking knives," Dean said. "We're gonna make the machete your new best friend."

They peered into a glass case full of knock-off katana swords, machetes, pocket knives, butterfly knives, and anything else with a sharp edge. The burly bearded man behind the counter made his way over and asked, "Wanna see any of 'em?"

"Yeah, the machete," Dean said.

"You sure, brother?" he asked. "That Japanese one there is lighter and prettier. Girls look nice holdin' a katana." He glanced at Evie.

Dean's thoughts only briefly swayed to the last issue of 'Busty Asian Beauties,' then he said, "I bet they do, but this little lady is interested in the machete."

The bearded man pulled out the machete and placed it on the counter with a metallic clink. Dean picked it up and ran his thumb across the blade. It was sharp, but not sharp enough for his purposes. He could fix that.

"We'll take it," Dean said.

* * *

_Slice._

The top half of the watermelon flew to the ground as Dean completed the swing.

"Watermelon?" Evie asked. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Dean said.

"Seems a little cheesy," Evie said.

"It won't seem cheesy when you have to behead a vamp!" Dean said a bit angrily. "Look, if you don't want to practice …"

"OK, OK!" Evie said, picking up the machete. She set up for her swing, looking like a first-time Little Leaguer. She swung at the watermelon—which was standing on a fencepost—with all her might. The blade got lodged halfway through. Evie's shoulders slouched with disappointment. She let the blade go, leaving the hilt jutting from the fruit, juice dripping from the gash; it did kind of resemble a bleeding wound. Even so, the wounded watermelon seemed to mock her.

She looked back at Dean with shame.

"Well?!" he exclaimed. "Finish it!"

She tried to say something, but Dean didn't give her the chance to finish.

"If that was a real vamp, he'd still be coming! That…" Dean said, pointing to the machete sticking out of the melon, "isn't even a scratch to him! What are you gonna do when he's still chomping at your throat?"

Evie remembered Matt in that moment. The vamp kept coming. He kept chomping. He kept sucking until all the blood was gone. Evie grasped the machete and pushed, taking the melon to the ground, where she clumsily pushed the blade through. The two pieces split unceremoniously, teeter-tottering on their skins like children's see-saws.

She stood, the blade feeling sticky in her grip. She stared at Dean in silence, not realizing she was crying. Dean simply stared back, emotionless. He was training a hunter. He couldn't afford to catch feelings.

* * *

"So, crosses and garlic don't work?" Evie asked.

"Nope," Dean answered.

"I guess I can toss my copy of Dracula, then," Evie said.

Dean grinned. He liked her; she still managed a sense of humor merely days after her entire way of life bled onto the sidewalk.

"And, they don't have to be invited in or, like, count stuff you throw on the ground or anything?" she asked.

"Uh, no, just the standard beheading, sunlight … oh, and dead man's blood," Dean said.

"OK, then, no Buffy marathon, either?" Evie said with a smirk.

This time Dean smiled. He was having fun for the first time since Sam ditched him for Stanford.

* * *

_Slice._

The watermelon split into two equal halves. Evie's technique was so smooth that the blow merely separated top from bottom and left the pieces stacked on the fence post. Dean looked on with quiet admiration. Full of a newly-found swagger, Evie flipped over the top of the melon and bit out a juicy chunk. "Not half bad," she managed through a mouthful of juicy goodness.

She held the piece out to Dean. He stepped toward her to take it, but his phone rang. He turned his back and answered.

_No, I haven't heard from Sammy. I'm fine, by the way. Yeah, well, thanks for that. _He slammed the flip phone closed and shoved it back into his pocket. He stood with his back to Evie and his eyes closed. Of course, Dad only showed concern for Sam. Of course, he didn't even ask how Dean was doing or what he was doing, or where he was. No, just Sam, Sam, Sam. Always Sam.

"Who's Sammy?" Evie asked. Dean detected something in her voice. He couldn't see her, just her shadow standing next to his – shorter, one hand on her hip, holding the machete, judgmental, maybe a little jealous, and the other eating melon, trying to act casual.

"No one," he answered shortly. He didn't need to get her involved in his family life. That was none of her business; that was no one's business but his own. But, that was the thing, wasn't it? There was no one to talk to, except Dad and Sammy. Dad didn't care, and Sammy deserted him. He emerged from his thoughts to see Evie's shadow growing even shorter: walking away.

"Sammy's my little brother," he said as he turned around.

"Is everything OK?"

Dean didn't quite know the answer to that question.

"Wanna grab a beer? I'm buying," Evie offered.

Now, that, Dean knew the answer to.

* * *

"So, after twenty years in the family business of killing things that go bump in the night – always at big brother's side, little bro decided to leave and become a lawyer, and that pissed you off?" Dean had told Evie everything. Everything. He had started with the death of his mom – no, the murder of his mom. The blaze that had ended his innocence and sent his family on a crusade for the demon with the yellow eyes. The so-called life on the road. The motel room holidays babysitting Sam while Dad hunted. Everything. He had never told anyone everything. She had summarized the culmination of his life into one compound sentence.

"Yeah, you could say it pissed me off," Dean answered and took a swig of his third beer.

Evie downed the liquid courage in front of her – her second glass of whiskey. She looked Dean straight in the eye, then she said, "Boo hoo."

He was taken aback. No one had ever talked to him like that aside from family. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," she said. "You're bitching and moaning because your brother went off to college."

"He abandoned us!"

"Are you listening to yourself? Peoples' brothers go to college every day, and they don't look at it as abandonment!"

"Well, this is different," Dean said. "And, you know what, who are you to judge me?"

"Who am I to judge?" Evie asked, flabbergasted. "I was going to get married! I was gonna be the youngest woman to make detective, maybe even make chief one day! Then, Matt … well … no one's life ever goes as planned. I am truly sorry about your mom, and your crappy childhood. Those things were out of your control, but you're in control now. Stop whining, and be a man."

The waiter chose that exact inopportune moment, as waiters often do, to approach. Noting the tension in the air, he opted to simply leave the check and flee as quickly as possible. Evie reached for it, but Dean grabbed it first.

"No, I got it," he said.

"I said I'd buy, and after what I said …" she said. "Dean …"

"No, you're right," he said, resolutely. "I am in control of my life and what I do with it. I'm just not used to hearing it put quite so …"

"Quite so similarly to a swift kick in jewels?" Evie finished, feeling like a real jackass.

Dean grinned. "I was going to say 'eloquently' … and very, very succinctly."

They laughed together. Man, it felt good to laugh. It had been a while since anyone had made him laugh, or even smile. He liked this girl. Genuinely liked her. Dean gazed at Evie thoughtfully, and realized that this was the moment he had warned himself about. Those damned feelings. Feelings were like weeds: they sprouted up suddenly. One day your armor was solid; there were no chinks, no weak spots, no weeds growing through. And, then, suddenly, before you even knew it, there it was: full grown, deeply rooted, and sprouting up through cracks you didn't even realize you had. There was no in between. No way to see it growing. It was just not there, then there. Their eyes met, and they both knew: It was there.

* * *

"Are you sure it's the place?" Evie called from the kitchen/living room.

"It makes sense," Dean called from the tiny bathroom off Evie's bedroom. "It's worth checking out. I can go alone if you don't want to go."

"No! Are you kidding? Of course, I'm going!" Evie said.

_Bam. Bam. Bam._

These were not the gentle raps of the slight, elderly Mrs. Kozlowski, delivering a catalog that she accidently received in her mailbox; nor the straightforward knocks of Edward, the building's handyman, stopping by to check on leaky pipes or faulty wiring. These booming blows were forceful, heavy fisted, angry.

Dean stood warily in the doorway of Evie's bedroom, pistol cocked, ready for a brawl. Evie shook her head and waved Dean toward the bathroom. Fighting his instinct shoot first, he obeyed and hid behind the cracked bathroom door poised to leap to Evie's aid.

_Bam. Bam._

"Foster! Open up!"

Maloney. Evie was a little relieved, but only a little. It was just Maloney, but he sounded pissed. She opened the door to reveal Maloney's stern face.

"Who the hell is here?" he demanded.

"What?" Evie asked, startled by the question. She certainly hadn't expected that.

Maloney barged in. "Hey!" Evie said.

"Matt isn't dead two weeks, and you're having men over?"

Evie just stared back, her mouth hanging. She couldn't think of a lie. She felt like a kid again, her father yelling at her for something she had done wrong. She didn't like it.

"Well?!"

"Well, what?" Evie responded. If she could see herself right now, she imagined she would look like a battered woman: wide-eyed, stunned, frightened.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

Nothing. She had nothing to say for herself.

Malone looked at her with disgust. "I came over to tell you that Matt's funeral is tomorrow. They decided to release the body for burial."

At that moment a toilet flushed, a door opened, and Dean appeared in the doorway, smiling, bright-eyed, innocent-looking. "Oh, hi," he said. "Uh, I'm Brady." He wiped his hands on his jeans and reached for a handshake. He put on a great show, Evie thought.

Maloney frowned, then glanced at Evie. "Just thought you'd want to know."

Evie watched him leave with tears in her eyes.

* * *

"Ready?" Dean asked.

Evie inhaled deeply and exhaled very slowly. She pushed Maloney, Matt's funeral, and everything else out of her mind. She would deal with that tomorrow. But tonight there was only one thing. She closed her eyes for a moment, and in that moment of darkness, she saw not black but red. Anger. And blood.

"Yeah," she replied calmly. "Yeah. Let's do this."

Dean looked Evie up and down. She wore black motorcycle boots, dark-dyed jeans, and a black tank top covered by a neutral green army surplus jacket. She held a machete in one hand. Her long, wavy hair was mostly up, though a few curls fell over her shoulders. She looked ready – despite the fact that her entire life had changed in two weeks; despite the fact that she was a totally fledgling hunter, brand new at everything that second nature to him; despite the feelings he was certain she was feeling – she looked ready … and also hot.

They approached the ramshackle wooden barn. The sun was just rising but shadows still played in creepy corners. Dean's research had tracked the vampire to this farm—it had been in disrepair, bouncing between owners for years. The vamp returned here every morning after presumably hunting for victims.

"Remember," Dean said. "They'll be asleep, but they can wake up. They can function during the daytime, but if we move quickly, we'll have the upper hand. … Just like we practiced."

"Why do you say 'they'?" Evie asked.

"Vamps always live in nests. There'll be a group," he said.

"Awesome," she replied.

Dean brushed open the large, creaky door. He entered first with Evie close behind. They stopped just inside and surveyed the large, open drive bay. Sunlight spilled across a hay-covered floor through tall, dusty windows along the left wall, revealing large pools of dried blood. To their right were three empty horse stalls, also plastered with old, dried blood.

Dean started into the room, but Evie tapped his shoulder and veered into the tack room immediately to the right, where she spied a grimy crossbow, complete with eight arrows. She motioned toward it with a head nod and grinned impishly. Dean pantomimed "No." Evie grabbed it anyway.

They canvased the room, checking each stall and finding nothing but blood. Dean relaxed his tense posture. He was about to start talking at a normal volume, but Evie held her hand up like a wall. She pointed with the crossbow to a ladder built into the wall; it was almost completely hidden behind some farm tools and fifty-gallon drums. Her eyes crawled over the small, walkable area directly above them. In the intense silence, they could just hear light snoring.

Dean took the lead, taking care to step lightly on each rung of the ladder, but it was old and creaky. He paused after each step, listening intently. Finally, he reached the second floor. He turned to peer behind him, blade between his teeth. From his vantage point, he could see two sleeping forms, but he was sure there were more.

He pulled himself carefully off the ladder and into a crouch. Evie started up the ladder. She reached the top much quicker; she was lighter, and her weight didn't take as much of a toll on the old rungs. They both stood and nodded in acknowledgment of their readiness. They approached the first sleeping form slowly, each footstep executed with extreme caution.

When Evie had a clear line of sight to the head of the first vampire, she elbowed Dean in the side and raised her eyebrows playfully, as if to say "Watch this." She aimed the crossbow and fired. The arrow pierced the vampire's forehead at an angle, pinning him to the floor.

Evie followed her arrow up with the machete. She deftly chopped through the vampire's neck, separating head from body. Dean grinned. He was having fun. He couldn't revel in it, though; a vampire charged at him. He deftly beheaded the creature as easily as he had sliced the practice watermelon in two.

He turned to Evie, smiling boyishly, arms open. Blood dripped from the blade.

"Weak," Evie teased.

Just then, a vampire pounced from across the room. It flew at Dean.

"Duck!" Evie yelled. Dean obeyed. Evie dropped the crossbow and positioned herself like a baseball player; she swung the machete just in time to behead the body but not stop its forward motion. The body tripped and fell to the first-floor below, while the head rolled forward and finally came to a stop between Dean's feet.

Evie grinned at Dean, holding her arms wide open.

"I give it a 7. Maybe," Dean said, pretending not to be impressed. But, he was very impressed.

They continued across the walkway, scanning for more vampires. They found one cowering. He attacked upon seeing Evie and Dean and was promptly beheaded. Another tried to flee; Evie fired an arrow at her head, impaling it to the wall. Dean came behind her and chopped the head off.

"OK, let's go," Dean said.

"Wait, we just leave the bodies here?" Evie asked.

"Yeah," Dean said. "What are we supposed to do with them?"

"Bury them? Burn the barn?" Evie said. "The police are going to find this. Our DNA is all over."

"Yeah, well, good luck finding me in the system," Dean said cockily.

"Uh, hello?!" Evie exclaimed, raising her hand. "I'm in the system, genius."

Dean's face dropped. Right. It was easy to forget she was a cop. She certainly wasn't behaving like one.

"Then, we leave town," Dean said.

"I can't just leave," she said. "I have a career. I have a …" She trailed off before she could say the word 'fiancé.' Evie hung her head.

"Hey …" Dean started.

"OK," she said resolutely.

"OK?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, why not?" Evie said. "I mean, my fiancé is dead. Murdered. By a vampire. Which, apparently, is real. Oh, and, we just shed our hair and epithelials all over a massive crime scene." Evie's face grew dourer with each word.

"Deep breath," Dean recited. He rubbed Evie's arm, trying to comfort her.

"Oh, and our fingerprints are all over the door, the ladder …"

"OK…"

"The arrows …"

"Evie."

"And don't forget footprints …"

"Evie!" Dean yelled and shook her.

As if prompted by Dean's voice, the barn door slammed heavily. Dean ran to the ladder, which was at the opposite end of the barn. Evie ran toward the small hayloft door directly above the main door. She undid the latch and shoved the door open just in time to see a vampire hauling ass down the dirt road.

Evie made her way down to the first floor. She met Dean in the middle of the drive bay.

"I have nothing left," Evie said. "Even if I did have a chance at returning to normal, it just disappeared into the night."

Dean stared at the young woman in front of him with a little admiration and a little pity. It was a shame that a woman with a bright future got sucked into the life, but she seemed like she could take it. She was handling it well.

"Come on, kid," Dean said, wrapping his arm around Evie's shoulder. "Let's make you disappear."

* * *

"OK," Evie said. "That's everything."

Evie watched as the last of her identifying paperwork burned to ash over the stove in her apartment. A trail of clothing, dishrags, and cushion stuffing connected the living room to the fire source of the gas stove.

"Ready?" she asked.

Dean positioned the vampire on the couch. The body was already scorched; they had burned her over a pyre. They had to make sure the body was burned so severely that DNA couldn't be extracted, but Evie knew they couldn't use accelerant. This had to look like an accident, not a murder. Or a set up.

Evie lit the stove. The inferno that ended one life and began another raged.

* * *

Dean ran his fingers through Evie's dark, wavy hair. They reached the back of her neck and pulled her closer.

Their lips met in a deep kiss. He tried to remind himself that he couldn't catch feelings, but at this point he no longer cared. The weed had appeared, a vine winding through the cracks … winding and groping, just like their bodies were now. He could think of nothing but her. Every kiss was an invitation; every curve compelled him closer. Their bodies moved in perfect unison. Their connection was deep.

Evie straddled Dean. His big hands gripped her tight thighs. She traced a trail with her fingertips from Dean's abs across his chest to his chiseled jaw and moved in for another kiss.

Dean couldn't control himself in this ballet of love making; time to add some electricity and rock all night long. He rolled on top of Evie, his broad, muscular shoulders eager but still protective. Her thighs gripped his waist, guiding him. Their hands explored each other. They both felt safe to be themselves—a feeling they both needed at that moment.

* * *

Dean and Evie drove from Chicago to Reno over the next month, stopping in small towns along the way at any hint of anything supernatural. They saved a family of four from two vengeful ghosts haunting their new home in Fairfield, Iowa. They hit a small vamp nest in Sioux City, Iowa. Then, it was on to wendigo hunting in Colorado. And, their feelings for each other deepened.

Night after night they slept in each other's arms—when they did sleep— in cheap motel after cheap motel, and once in the backseat of the Impala because Evie refused to touch the "DNA cesspool" on the bed. But, it didn't matter where they were. They were together, and every night was magical.

Then, one morning, 1,900 miles from the Chicago home she torched, Evie awoke alone in a Reno motel room. It was the nicest motel they had checked into since leaving Chicago. She looked around the room, thinking Dean might be in the shower, but all was quiet. His side of the bed was cold. It had been empty for hours.

She hesitantly stepped out of bed, not bothering to cover her nakedness, and approached the window. She noticed that Dean's bag was gone, and as she pulled back the curtains, she saw that the Impala was gone, too. Her heart dropped, and she began to feel a little woozy. That's when she noticed the note taped to the mirror. Each letter became a little more in focus as she approached. It said: "I'm sorry. – D."

Evie plopped down heavily on the bed, for the first time since Matt died, truly feeling the weight of her new life.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Evie yawned and opened her eyes sleepily. She turned her head suddenly and saw the other side of the king size bed was made … and cold. She looked around the motel room and noticed only her bag on the floor. The feeling of déjà vu was nearly overwhelming. She stood slowly and approached the bathroom with a pit in her stomach, expecting to see a letter taped to the mirror.

The door opened suddenly, causing her to jump a little.

"Morning!" Dean called cheerily. He dug inside a brown bag and pulled out a wrapped breakfast burrito, which he tossed to Evie. She caught it with both hands.

Dean took a bite of his food and smiled at Evie. She giggled with relief.

"How's our favorite dick?" Evie asked.

Dean paused mid-bite, then realization crossed his face.

"Oh! He's a bucket of laughs," Dean said.

"Good," Evie said. "Well, let's get going. The sooner I can tear into him the happier I'll be."

* * *

Dean and Evie drove for six hours without talking or stopping anywhere. They blasted the heaviest rock music they had between them, including AC/DC, Motorhead, Metallica, and Black Sabbath. After a while Dean couldn't even hear Crowley's ranting and whining. He was actually at peace: the open road, metal, a beautiful woman next to him, and nothing to do but drive. No whining, no douche-baggery, no complaints. It was damn near Heavenly.

Dean looked over at Evie with a coy smile as Robert Plant screamed about yearnin' and burnin' and whole lotta lovin'. She couldn't help but grin at his playful arrogance. She almost found it cute again.

_Flutter._

Castiel and Sam appeared in the back seat just as Robert Plant was screaming orgasm sounds. Dean and Evie both started in surprise. Dean quickly turned the volume down.

"So," Dean said, trying to act casual. "Anything?"

"Oh, yeah," Sam said. "It was the nest we were looking for."

"Heh," Cas chuckled.

They all looked at him.

"It sounded like 'these are not the droids you are looking for'…" Cas replied with a grin. Evie grinned back. Sam cleared his throat, and Dean stared ahead at the road. Crowley chortled as loudly as he could from the trunk. _"Brilliant, Obi-Wan!"_

"Maybe we should stop somewhere," Sam suggested.

"Yeah, good idea," Dean said. "I gotta pee, anyway."

Dean took the next exit and pulled the Impala into a gas station/diner. He stopped the car as far from the establishment as possible. Dean, Evie, Cas, and Sam exited the car. As they passed by the trunk, Dean banged his fist down and said, "Remember the rules."

"_Yeah, yeah,"_ Crowley said from inside_. "I alert attention, you do sexy things to my unmentionables._"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Jerk," he said under his breath.

"_Bitch!"_ Crowley yelled.

Dean shot a backward glance at the trunk as he convened with the group at a picnic table in a clearing nearby. Evie and Cas held hands, fingers intertwined. Sam sat on the other side.

"So, you guys found the nest," Dean said. "What couldn't you say in front of the junk in the trunk?"

"The vamps used the potion on two humans, like Crowley said," Sam said. "They were strung up like cattle."

Dean took a deep breath. "OK."

"And, it gets worse," Sam said.

"How does this get worse?" Dean asked.

Cas and Sam met eyes, then both looked to the ground.

"Something was wrong," Sam said. "It's like the vamps who fed couldn't stop drinking. They literally drank themselves to death."

"That's a bad thing?" Dean asked.

"No … but it's weird, right?" Sam said.

"What about the … ?" Dean asked

"The girls?" Sam replied. "Yeah … two kids, couldn't have been older than 12. They were about like you'd expect."

"That good, huh?" Dean replied sarcastically.

"We have to find out what Crowley's up to," Cas said.

"You know he's lying," Dean asked. "Whatever it is, he's lying."

Everyone looked down at the table.

"Well, only one way to find out," Evie finally said. She stood resolutely and started toward the car.

* * *

"Why are you making deals with the Alpha?" Sam asked Crowley.

"I'm a sucker for a good … sucker," Crowley smirked.

"Come on! The Alpha is never going to trust you after he finds out what the potion really does," Sam said.

"Ah, therein lies the beauty of it, Moose," Crowley said arrogantly. "You two dimwits did my work for me. You made it look like those vampires with an eating disorder were taken out by an overzealous hunter and his pet angel."

Crowley grinned impishly. Sam and Cas looked at each other in growing dismay.

"What about the girls?" Sam tried. "Vampires will find them, and they'll tell the true story."

"Oh, please!" Crowley laughed. "My boys have already snatched them up. That's right," Crowley went on. "Who do you think the Alpha's gunning for now?"

Anger painted Dean's face. He started toward Crowley, but his rampage was cut short by Evie's hand on his chest. She didn't say a word; the look in her eyes was enough for Dean to know it was time for him to leave. His face relaxed.

"Let's go, Sam," Dean said.

Sam opened his mouth to argue, but promptly closed it and quieted down when he saw the sudden change in Evie and his brother. He silently followed Dean and left the room. They stood outside the door, politely waiting for Cas, who remained inside with his woman.

Cas grabbed Evie's forearm and turned them both away from Crowley. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I have to," Evie said.

"I know you think you're doing the right thing, but this is a path you may not want to go down," Cas said. "You may not like where it leads you."

"It's rude to keep your guest waiting, sweetheart!" Crowley called from his ironbound throne.

Evie gazed silently into Cas' eyes, and he, like Dean, understood that he should let Evie do what she needed to do.

"I'll be right outside," Cas said reluctantly.

Evie watched Cas exit the room, waiting until the door clicked shut before she turned to face Crowley.

"So glad to have some alone time … again," Crowley said.

Evie sashayed across the room to the small, metal tool table near Crowley. Without a word she lifted a rosary out of a jug of holy water, grabbed a chair, and straddled it, situating herself behind Crowley.

"Do you think this little two-bit show is scaring me?" Crowley asked. "You'll have to outperform the understudy to impress me."

Evie pulled Ruby's knife from her waistband and used it to slice open the buttons on Crowley's shirt.

"Ooh, darling, I knew you were kinky, but …"

Before Crowley could finish his quip, Evie placed the rosary around Crowley's neck. It burned his skin, and white steam rose with a hiss. Crowley bore the pain through gritted teeth.

Evie leaned in close to Crowley's left ear, her lips almost touching his skin. "Where is the tablet?"

"A rosary?" Crowley asked, unimpressed. "Is this the best you've got?"

Evie pulled two syringes from her jacket pocket. She pulled the caps off with her mouth, and one at a time, spit them over Crowley's shoulder. They flew across his lap, one at a time, and fell to the floor.

"What are you doing?" Crowley asked suspiciously.

Evie held one syringe of red liquid in her left hand and one syringe of red liquid in her right hand. Leaning her forearms on Crowley's shoulders, she held them up so Crowley could see them. She leaned in next to the left side of Crowley's face. The two stared at each other – Evie's gaze, unflinching; Crowley's eyes darting uncertainly to and fro. Evie grinned playfully. Crowley's face was tight.

"Well!" Crowley screamed suddenly.

"Oh," Evie said. "You want to know what's in these syringes …"

Crowley rolled his eyes.

"You'll love this! In one," she said looking thoughtfully at the syringe on the left, "is human blood mixed with a touch of holy water and a few other nasty things for extra flavor. I heard you have a taste for it … the blood part, at least."

She looked at the syringe in her right hand, redirecting Crowley's worried eyes. "And, in the other … is your magic human-healing, vamp-killing potion."

"Where did you …?" Crowley asked.

"Oh, Sam and Cas brought some back. The vamps hadn't used it all," Evie said. "I wonder what it would do to a demon. I mean, I don't know what's in it … but you do."

Crowley's eyes seemed to be focused on the syringe he thought the vamp potion was in. There was an air of panic about him, and it was so thick Evie could almost taste it. She took it and ran with it.

"Oh, I forgot to mention the best part!" Evie said proudly. "This is a double-blind torture."

She switched the syringes, left hand to right hand and vice versa. "Neither of us knows which is which. … So, what do you say? Should we flip a coin or would you prefer to have some control over your fate?"

Crowley froze. He seemed to stop breathing for a good ten seconds. Then, suddenly, he burst: "Why do think I know where the tablet is?!"

Evie plunged one needle into Crowley's neck and positioned her thumb on the plunger.

"Where is the tablet?" Evie whispered in his ear.

"I don't know!" Crowley insisted.

"You do," Evie insisted. "Or, at least the Alpha does. That's why you're dealing with him."

"I make deals, sweetheart, that's what I do! " Crowley said desperately.

"Not with him," she said. "From what I understand, he would delight in tearing your face off. You seem to have that effect on people. You have no reason to deal with him … not unless you really needed something."

"If I knew where the tablet was, do you think I would be wasting my time with vampires?"

Crowley cringed as Evie's grip on the syringe tightened and the needle shifted under his skin.

"No," she replied. "But, you were getting close to finding out … and you still are."

Evie yanked the syringe from his neck, removed the rosary, and stood.

"What?" Crowley asked. "No! Are you crazy? He'll smell you a mile away."

"That's why you're going in alone," Evie said.

Crowley stared at her, brow furrowed. "You trust me to go in alone?"

"Absolutely not," Evie replied. "But I'm gonna bug you, the Winchesters will be listening, and we have a pet angel to keep you on a tight, uncomfortable leash."

Crowley's annoyance was visible, but Evie didn't hang around to see it.

"I'll be back in a bit, sweetheart," Evie called over her shoulder, "then, we'll talk about what's in that potion that's got you all hot and bothered."

As the door closed behind her, Sam asked quietly, "Did it work?"

"Like a charm," Evie said, smirking. "He was terrified of our holy water and food coloring. But, guys, we have to find out what's in that potion. … It's bad. Really bad."

* * *

"So, what's more important now? Finding out what's in the potion, or finding the tablet?" Sam asked the group of his brother, the girl, and the angel. They sat around the huge table in the main room of the bunker, all but Castiel nursing a drink.

"He was terrified of that potion, Sam, and it's coursing through my veins!" Evie said emotionally, her voice growing louder.

Cas reached over and held Evie's hand, reassuringly. Dean frowned and stared into his whiskey

"It only seems to hurt vampires," Sam said calmly.

Cas spoke up. "Sam's right. You've had the potion inside you for weeks with no adverse effects."

"OK, fine," Evie acquiesced. "He just makes my skin crawl."

"Yeah, you're not the only one," Dean said.

"Evie is right that the potion's recipe may be useful," Cas added. "If Crowley was afraid to ingest it, I suspect it may have a similar effect on demons as it does on vampires."

"OK, but if it's the same potion, why does it gank monsters and make humans immortal? How is that possible?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," Cas said seriously. "But we have to stop it."

"Ugh," Dean said. "Can't we just have one weekend to ourselves?"

* * *

"OK, it's done," Crowley said, sniffing the blood in the chalice slightly before handing it back. "Whose blood was this, again? Smells … brooding. Moose?"

"So?" Dean insisted.

"So …?" Crowley replied.

"So, when's the appointment?!" Dean yelled, annoyed.

"Oh, right," Crowley said nonchalantly. "Friday. The Bellagio."

"Vegas?" Sam asked.

"Very good, Moose," Crowley said. "Viva Las Vegas."

* * *

As the Impala passed the "Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas" sign and traffic came to a halt, a hooker knocked on the window. "Hey, boys!" she purred with real enthusiasm. She wore a complicated, stringy leopard print dress and above-the-knee boots. "Give ya a good rate for the four of ya … ah, what the hell! Lady, too!"

"Ah, Vegas," Crowley sighed comfortably. He sat in the backseat between Cas and Evie. "Always felt like home here."

Cas gave Crowley a curious sideways glance, but everyone else stared forward as traffic started to move, painfully avoiding awkward eye contact with the eager hooker.

Crowley's neck craned back as they passed the Bellagio and turned onto a side street. "You … uh … that was the Bellagio, Squirrel!"

"Yeah, I saw that," Dean said.

Crowley shrugged expectantly.

"And?" Dean asked, looking at Crowley in the rearview mirror.

"And, in case I didn't mention it before, genius, I'm meeting my contact at …" Crowley extended his hand and waited for Dean to fill in the blank.

"And, we can't afford to stay in the Bellagio, money bags!" Evie said to Crowley.

"Maybe you can't, darling," Crowley said. He reached into his inside jacket pocket. "But, you're playing in the big leagues now." He grinned, brandishing a shiny, black credit card. "Bring the car 'round, Squirrel."

* * *

Evie fell backward into the softest cloud of a comforter her skin had ever touched, arms spread wide, eyes closed. She audibly sighed, and a smile brushed her lips.

She felt the mattress depress near her thighs, then her arms. Then she felt the billow of a trench coat envelope her as the weight of Cas' body came down on her. Her smile grew. She felt the slight wetness of his soft lips as they closed on hers. She wrapped her arms tightly around Cas' shoulders.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

Evie turned an annoyed look to the door, as Cas strode to answer it. He opened it to find Dean, who shoved Crowley into the room.

"I can't deal with him," Dean said, trying to leave as quickly as possible. He shot an ashamed look at Evie, who was sitting on the rumpled queen bed furthest from the door. "Have fun you two," Dean said, walking away.

Cas opened his mouth to speak, but Dean was already gone.

Crowley plopped down on the bed closer to the bathroom, TV remove in handcuffed hand. "Mind if I take this bed, or can I interest you in a threesome?"

Cas closed the door, and looked apologetically at Evie, whose ire was growing by the second. She looked between Cas and Crowley. "You've got to be kidding!" she yelled.

"I'll keep the bed warm, in case you change your mind," Crowley said, crossing his legs and getting cozy in the pillows.

* * *

Evie woke in the morning at the first sign of light. She looked over to see Crowley in the same exact place he was the night before and Castiel standing between the beds, watching him awkwardly.

Crowley noticed her gaze. "Good morning, Sunshine," he said. "Finally, someone more interesting to talk to. This one here has been such a bore!"

Evie was annoyed, but she still felt well-rested. That was surprising, given the fact that she remembered Crowley talking most of the night. In fact, the last thing she could recall was Crowley's color commentary on a string of riveting infomercials.

"How did you sleep?" Cas asked, sitting on the bed next to Evie.

"Pretty well, I think," she answered. "Did you have something to do with that?"

"Yes," he smiled. "I thought you could use some sleep."

Evie smiled back, and sat up, moving closer to Cas.

"Oh, get a room, you two," Crowley said with obvious distaste. He paused and cocked his head to the side when he realized what he had said, then shrugged it off and changed the channel.

* * *

Evie sat down at the table with Sam and Dean.

"Morning, Evie," Sam greeted the newcomer. "Thanks for volunteering to babysit Crowley last night. He just wouldn't shut up."

Evie's tense face dropped, and her head cocked. She glared at Dean with a look that could have melted ice.

The waitress delivered two breakfast plates, complete with eggs, bacon, and hash browns. Evie reached across the table, grabbed Dean's plate, and placed it in front of herself. "This is mine," she stated flatly.

Dean's protest was cut short by the waitress who returned with two cups of coffee and a menu. She placed the coffee in front of Sam and Dean, and after a pause, placed the menu in front of Dean. "Can I get you some coffee, honey?" she asked Evie.

"Nope," Evie replied, grabbing Dean's mug.

The waitress walked away quickly, trying to hide her grin.

"This is mine, too," Evie said.

"What?" Dean asked incredulously.

"You dumped Chatty Kathy on me and Cas last night, ass hat!" Evie exclaimed. "You owe me! In fact, if you play in the casino, every penny you win is mine! … Did you play last night?"

Dean avoided eye contact, while Sam bemusedly grasped his fork.

Evie took a huge bite of eggs. "Huh! Drop off little orphan demon so you can play the tables!" she mumbled through a mouthful of food. "Jerk! You cost me a romantic night at the Bellagio."

"Wait," Sam interjected. "I thought you offered to watch Crowley."

Evie glared at Dean as she poured sugar in her coffee.

"Dude!" Sam exclaimed.

The waitress returned with a fresh mug of coffee for Dean. As she set it down in front of him, she offered a piece of wisdom that could only come from a weary woman who had worked all her life. "Forget the flowers," she said. "An apology'll go a lot further." She glanced briefly at Evie, who was still staring Dean down. "Trust me, hon."

Evie loudly sipped her coffee and banged the mug on the table, exaggerating every sound. "Everything's ready," she said to Sam. "Chatty Kathy is wired up."

They quickly finished their meals. Evie waved the waitress over.

"Will that be together or … separate?" she asked.

"Together … on him," Evie said, nodding toward Dean with a forced grin.

The waitress happily tore the check from her booklet and placed it in front of Dean.

"See ya upstairs," Evie said.

* * *

"So, he's all set?" Dean asked.

"Would you like me to strip down so you can check?" Crowley asked.

Evie unbuttoned the top two buttons of Crowley's shirt. Crowley's eyebrow raised suggestively. Evie turned the buttons around to reveal the 3-inch wire and microphone. She re-buttoned his shirt.

"The mic transmits to these three ear pieces," Evie said, handing Sam and Dean each a small ear bud. She then placed an identical one in her own ear. "Say something, Crowley."

"Under different circumstances I might rather enjoy being the bug in your ears," Crowley said.

"Loud and clear," Dean said.

"Wow, that's pretty cool, Evie," Sam said.

"Thanks," Evie said.

"OK, let's go over the plan," Dean said.

"Right," Crowley said. "I go in, I meet my contact, he wants more potion, I say 'no potion, no tablet,' blah blah blah, get the location of the tablet, kill him, then we all hold hands and go skipping off into the sunset to together and share the tablet like besties."

"Close enough. We'll be at the pie buffet," Dean said, grinning. "Just around the corner. Cas will be listening, too, so don't try anything."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Crowley said.

"Pie buffet?" Evie asked, intrigued.

* * *

The group slowed as they passed the bar. Cas and Sam lingered a little longer, shooting Crowley warning glances as he sauntered into the dimly lit room. Evie and Dean were more focused on the sign further down the hallway that read "Pie Buffet: Ticket Required." Dean dug through his pockets in search of his tickets. He had won four in the casino last night but couldn't seem to find them now.

As they approached the entrance, Evie reached into her back pocket and produced those exact four tickets. She held one in front of her face in an overly dramatic motion and tore it in two. Dean's jaw dropped as he watched the pieces fall to the floor.

Evie pulled out the remaining three tickets and handed them to the man blocking the door. "Me and these two," she said, indicating herself, Cas, and Sam. She pushed Cas and Sam in front of her, leaving Dean behind, gaping in disgust.

Cas began to speak, to offer his ticket to Dean, since, of course, he didn't even eat, but Evie covered his mouth with her hand. Dean started to come out of his stupor, searching through his pockets for the tickets Evie had stolen. She pouted her lips at Dean and shrugged. He set his jaw and shook his head at her.

"Not the pie!" he said to himself. For just a second, he allowed the pouty little child inside to come out and kick at the carpet. Then, he noticed the two hot blondes looking him over. He recovered his cool and booked it to the nearest leather bench, where he parked himself. He could see his brother and friends at the buffet. Evie had two slices – looked like apple and banana cream. She sat with them at a table, facing the door, so she could rub it in Dean's face. She had two forks, and dug into both slices at once. She made sure to maintain eye contact with Dean, then shoveled both pieces into her mouth.

Her bliss faded as the opposing tastes melded in her mouth. Dean chuckled. Evie saw that her jig was up, but she chewed the bite and swallowed, doing her best to pretend that it was delectable. Dean couldn't stop grinning. He had forgotten how much he missed her.

* * *

"How long do you think this is gonna take?" Sam asked, picking at his third piece of pie. Crowley went on and on in their ears, hardly taking a breath. He had been pushing his sales pitch incessantly for twenty minutes.

"Who knows?" Evie responded, rubbing her stomach, which was confused at the mix of pies. "He is a salesman. They're the worst kind of people."

Sam took another nibble of his pie, so they looked natural. But, the table looked anything but natural. Gargantuan Sam nibbled at the same piece of pie he'd been working over for the last ten minutes, while Evie, in her form-fitting top, rubbed her uncomfortable stomach. And Cas, an already awkward fellow in an out-of-season trench coat, sat staring blankly into the distance with his hands in his lap. They all listened to Crowley's incredibly boring monologue through earpieces. Cas couldn't hear it, but he didn't need to; he felt Crowley's presence.

Dean sat on a bench outside, also listening, and also trying to look natural. He only succeeded in looking sad. That's when the attractive blonde in the strapless dress took a seat next to him.

"Hi," she said seductively.

"Uh, hi," he said, trying to talk over Crowley's rattling in his ear.

"I'm ….. .. . . .. .. . ." The woman continued talking, but all Dean could hear was Crowley going on about potions, numbers, blah blah, win-win, blah. He casually touched his ear, pulling the earpiece out. He smiled at the hotty, slipping the earpiece into a pocket.

He stuck out his hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. You are?"

"Michaela."

"I'm Dean."

Inside the pie buffet, at the same time as Dean and Michaela were getting acquainted, a cute blonde waitress approached the hunters' table with a bottle of Tums. She crouched next to Evie, and set the bottle on the table.

"First timer?" she asked with a charming smile.

"Ugh, yeah," Evie responded, grateful for the medicine.

"Happened to me, too," the blonde said.

While Evie and the blonde waitress were talking, another blonde waitress walked up to Sam.

"Can I get you anything, handsome?"

Sam looked up at her, about to say no, thank you, he was fine. Cas stood suddenly. "Crowley!" He headed swiftly for the door. Evie realized she couldn't hear the incessant chatter anymore; all she heard was stark silence, not even a hiss of static. She spared a glance at the blonde who had brought the Tums; the girl grinned, satisfied, as if she had achieved something. Crowley!

Evie and Sam followed Cas as quickly as they could. Dean was making out with Michaela as they approached.

"Dude!" Sam called.

Dean broke his kiss and stole a sideways glance at Sam. "What?"

Sam noticed Dean's earpiece wasn't in. "Trouble!" Sam said, look straight at Michaela, who glared right back. Dean turned to look at her and back at his brother. "Come on!" Sam yelled, already moving down the hall.

A troubled, confused expression on his face, Dean left the beautiful blonde and hurried to follow. When he caught up, Cas and Evie stood in the center of the vacant bar. There had been people in there when they passed the first time, but now it was empty. Crowley was nowhere in sight.

Suddenly, Cas turned his head. He rushed to the booth furthest from the door, leaned in, and examined. He stood and turned, holding the jimmied handcuffs loosely with one finger.

"How'd he slip the cuffs?" Dean asked, frustrated.

"The vamp must've helped him," Sam stated.

Cas tossed the handcuffs to Dean, then he was gone without a word.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Evie gazed into Castiel's eyes. She felt like she was swimming in steely blue bliss. His soft fingertips caressed her lips, his thumb tracing the lines of her chin, her jaw, her neckline, and her collarbone. As he moved in for a kiss, she realized she was naked. She hadn't noticed before.

Her whole body was aquiver, sensitive. His every touch gave her goose bumps.

His hand wrapped around her shoulder and stopped there. His lips stopped just before meeting hers. His grip tightened, no longer a caress. He shook her a little, and she could hear his voice calling her name, although his lips didn't move. His voice came from far away.

She moved back. Now she was wearing clothes – pajamas. Cas repeated her name. This time, his lips moved, but they didn't look like his. They looked more like … Dean's.

Evie awoke with a start.

"Evie," Dean said. His hand was on her shoulder. She lay in bed at the bunker.

Evie took a breath and a second to adjust to her surroundings.

"You OK?" Dean asked, concerned. "It took a bit to wake you up."

"Yeah," Evie said. "Yeah. What's up?"

"We caught a case," he answered.

"Crowley?" she asked eagerly.

"No," he said. "But I can't just sit around spinning my wheels. It's been a week and no sign of Crowley."

She knew that Dean purposely didn't mention Cas' absence. She wasn't sure if she should mention her dreams. This was the third dream like this she had had in the week since they lost Crowley in Las Vegas and Cas had disappeared. Cas was starting to appear in her dreams every night now. At this point she wasn't certain if it was anything more than her imagination. She would keep it to herself. For now.

"OK," Evie agreed. "I'm getting up."

Dean didn't leave.

"Dean."

"Hmmm?"

"You're not gonna see me in my underwear. Get out," Evie said.

"Oh," Dean said, grinning cutely. "Right." He left the room, closing the door slowly.

Evie got dressed and joined the boys.

"Alright, what's this case?" Evie asked, rubbing her face sleepily.

"Not quite sure," Sam said. "Five people have been murdered in the last two weeks in Santa Fe, New Mexico." Sam hesitated. He was obviously embarrassed about what he was about to say. "Five really fat people."

"Fat people?" Evie asked.

"Yeah, like, obese. No one under 300 pounds," Sam said. "And, local police reports have several witnesses on record saying they saw the victims with a strange, handsome man or beautiful woman before they died."

"A monster with a thing for fat chicks?" Dean said cheerily. "Fun times."

* * *

Sam, Dean, and Evie poured over police and coroner reports, newspaper articles, witness statements, and the internet, looking for anything relevant to their case.

"Check this out," Sam said, addressing his friends. "The coroner's reports show that every single victim died of starvation."

"Starvation?" Dean asked in disbelief. "I thought you said they were all obese."

"They were," Sam said. "All five had BMI's over 35 and weight at least 300 pounds."

"Then, how'd they starve?" Evie asked.

"Maybe they were starving for love," Dean laughed.

Evie and Dean traded bemused glances.

"We've seen a few monsters that could do this, right?" Sam asked Dean. "I mean, monsters that suck on fat."

"Yeah, but the corpses are still fat. How does something suck the fat out when the fat's still in there?" Dean asked.

"Enemies?" Evie asked.

"Well, they were all well-off—" Sam started.

"And, well-fed," Dean quipped.

"They all had nice homes, nice cars, good jobs, and uh," Sam continued. "Huh. There is a police report in Mr. Randall's file from six months ago. He called the cops on an 8-year-old Chinese boy for stealing his happy meal. Turns out the boy and his mother were fresh off the boat from China. Mom was unemployed, and they were both homeless and literally starving."

"What a douche," Evie and Dean said simultaneously.

"He might be more than that," Sam said. "He might be a murderer. Yeah, the boy apparently had a habit of stealing food from Mr. Randall's garbage cans on trash pick-up days. He died four days after Mr. Randall caught him stealing the burger. On trash pick-up day."

"What's the boy's name?" Evie asked.

"Dong Shen Wu," Sam pronounced carefully.

"And where is Little Boy Wu buried?" Dean asked.

"Uh, I don't know," Sam stumbled, swiping through papers.

Evie pulled up Dong Shen's obituary online. "The obit didn't mention funeral arrangements, just one survivor: his mom, Wei Yin Ma. She's where we start."

* * *

"This is it," Sam said, peering over the scrap of paper in his hand at the dark 'Happy You' sign above the Chinese restaurant. "Looks like they're closed."

"Has that ever stopped us from poking around?" Dean asked.

The hunters circled around to the alley in back of all the restaurants on this street, where they saw a Chinese woman leaving the restaurant with her hands full of paper grocery bags. She looked nervous as she locked the door, peeking over her shoulder every few seconds. She hurried down the alley away from the hunters, her quick, tiny footsteps barely making a sound.

"Where's she going in such a hurry?" Dean whispered.

"Let's find out," Sam said.

Evie's scowled, her face motionless and cold like stone. A dark, foreboding feeling was overtaking her, but she followed. They stalked Wei Yin for miles. The mother's pace never slowed, despite the heavy load she carried.

"Where the hell is she going? We've been following her for like two miles," Sam whispered.

"I don't know, but it's weird, right?" Dean asked.

They were approaching the edge of a forest, part of Carlson National Forest. Wei Yin headed toward a specific tree just inside the tree line. It was difficult to discern much in the dark, but Evie had an idea what she was looking for. She could just make out a small altar with remnants of food on it. Wei Yin dropped to her knees before the altar and started to pull food from her bags.

"We came to watch her feed the birds?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"She didn't walk two miles to feed birds," Evie said. "She's making an offering."

"An offering to what?" Sam asked.

"Her son's ghost," Evie answered.

* * *

"Wait, he's an ugly?" Dean asked.

"An egui [uh-gway]," Evie answered in perfect Chinese. "A Chinese hungry ghost."

Dean paused, brow furrowed. His lips began to form words, then he paused again and inhaled sharply. His brow furrowed again. He paused again, in deep thought.

"How do you know so much about Chinese ghosts?" he finally managed.

Evie sighed. "After you left … I kinda freaked out."

Dean's eyes avoided Evie's and accidently found Sam's. They were pejorative. Dean looked away quickly.

"So, I moved to China for a year," Evie continued.

"You went to China?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," Evie said.

"And hunted?" Sam asked.

"Not at first. Well, I didn't plan to at all," Evie said. "I went to meditate and study kung fu."

Dean laughed. "Was everybody kung fu fighting?"

Evie shot Dean one of her withering glares.

Dean closed his mouth, clumsily, then cleared his throat. "So, you did the whole Shaolin Jet Li thing or …?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Evie answered. "I lived with the monks at the temple. Up at five, kung fu and Mandarin lessons all day, meditate with a beautiful mountain view, lights out at nine. Oh, and lots of rice. It was peaceful … for like ten months. Then, my life came back to haunt me."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"One night our sifu didn't come back from his nightly walk in the forest," she said. "The monks were very superstitious. No one would go looking for him at night, so I snuck out. And, damn my curiosity." Evie shook her head. "First thing I saw was Sifu Bohai lying under a tree; then, the ghost leaning over him; then, the food. Which seemed extra weird."

"So what'd you do?" Sam asked.

"Well, Sifu was unconscious, but breathing, so like any sane person, I followed the ghost," Evie said sarcastically. "It went around for hours feeding, or _trying_ to."

"Feeding on what?" Dean asked.

"Everything," Evie answered. "Garbage, animal carcasses, and shrines like the one Wei Yin left."

"Huh. So according to Buddhist and Chinese folk traditions, hungry ghosts can arise from violent deaths or evil deeds," Sam read from the internet. "They often have long, needle thin necks with tiny mouths that are too small to ingest much food. They wander the outskirts of civilization, feeding on garbage and remains."

"Exactly," Evie agreed.

"So, I'm guessing you solved the case of the hungry ugly ghost and the missing monk?" Dean asked.

"Yep. Turns out the _egui _was the younger brother of Sifu Bohai," Evie said, emphasizing the correct pronunciation of egui, "who had been caught stealing when the two were kids – over fifty years ago, at the time. The shop owner cut off his hand, and he died of infection. Sifu Bohai stole, too, but he didn't get caught, and he didn't fess up."

"Let me guess … instead he lived a quiet, pious life, hoping it would save his soul," Sam interjected.

Evie nodded in agreement.

"Alright, let's go back tomorrow and talk to tiger mom, find out where our local ugly is buried and torch his bones," Dean said with confidence.

"It's not that simple," Evie said.

"Why not? A ghost is a ghost, right?" Dean exclaimed.

"It's the shrines," Sam stated, slowly realizing.

"The people put out sacrificial offerings to hungry ghosts, burn incense and paper for hell money, build altars … There's even a ghost festival during the seventh month," Evie said. "Ghosts are a big part of Chinese tradition."

"So you think all the rituals and festivals give these ghosts their mojo?" Dean asked seriously.

"I burned the boy's bones," Evie said. "When that didn't work, I burned the bracelet Sifu Bohai wore as a momento." Evie paused for a second. "He wasn't too happy about that."

"Oh, don't tell me you stole from a padre," Dean said.

"Like you haven't!" Evie challenged.

"Touché," Dean said.

"Sifu kicked me out of the temple for burning his brother's bracelet, but I kept following him at night, just to be sure."

"Totally not stalkerish," Dean quipped.

"He brought food every night, and on the third night, the egui appeared," Evie said. "And, again the next night, and the next, and the next. And, every night the ghost got more violent."

"Violent? And, you didn't help?" Dean accused.

"I didn't know how to kill it!" Evie exclaimed. "I had torched everything! I didn't know what else to do. I packed up and was trying to scrape some cash together to leave the country when Sifu found me. He said it had gotten out of hand, and he asked for help."

"So what'd you tell him? Just stop sacrificing and the ghost would go away?" Dean asked.

"It worked," Evie said.

"So, you're saying we've got to convince a grieving mother to stop honoring her dead son?" Sam asked.

"You make me sound like a dick," Evie said.

"Join the club," Dean said.

* * *

"You are crazy! Get out!" Wei Yin yelled. She pushed Sam forcefully and quickly rushed into the kitchen of the Chinese restaurant. Customers looked up from their lunches. Waiters started to gather threateningly.

Sam, Dean, and Evie left quietly, without another word.

"Well, that went smoothly," Dean said, sarcastically.

"Dean, we strolled up to her job and told her that her dead son is killing people," Sam said.

"So, what do we do now?" Dean asked.

"Come back tonight? Try again when she's alone?" Evie suggested.

Sam and Dean both stopped and looked sideways at Evie. Dean's face was bemused, Sam's disapproving.

Evie threw up her hands. "I'm a dick. I know!"

"Hey, dicks eat tacos, right?" Dean asked excitedly.

Sam couldn't help but lighten up as Dean and Evie started down the street toward Taco Town.

* * *

"Oh, come on! Soft is weak!" Dean exclaimed.

"You mean, it's clearly superior," Evie corrected.

"You can't tell me you eat anything but crunchy tacos!" Dean said. "Sam! Back me up here!"

"I think they both have their merits," Sam said with purposeful neutrality.

"I'll take it," Evie accepted, taking another bite of her soft taco. Sam also took a bite of his taco salad. Dean, however, continued to scowl in disbelief.

"Dude!"

"Don't be a dick about it," Evie said. "We can live in taco harmony."

Dean shook his head. "I could use a margarita." He motioned to the waitress. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Keep your skirt on. We've got like, what, an hour?" Dean said. The waitress approached the table. "Hi," Dean said in his most charmingly boyish voice, but he stopped short of ordering. His eyes grew alert, darting across the street. "Hey! Let's go."

Sam turned to see Wei Yin leaving in a hurry. He dropped his fork and reached into his wallet, producing a $20.

"Aw!" Evie cried through a mouthful of taco. She threw the remaining bits of tortilla, meat, and shredded cheese onto her plate and left quickly, just behind the brothers, chewing as she ran.

* * *

"Follow her! We'll head her off!" Dean barked an order to Evie as Wei Yin took off down an alley between buildings, headed for the back alley that ran behind the restaurants and shops. Evie followed Wei Yin. Sam and Dean took a sharp left and rounded the block.

Evie burst into the back alley, running at full speed, rounding a blind corner. Wei Yin's foot hit her square in the nose, knocking her flat on her back. Her vision blurred temporarily and her nose swelled, then immediately healed. Evie blinked, her vision clearing in time to see Wei Yin execute a perfect axe kick. She watched in slow motion as a tiny heel in a tiny, black Mary Jane plummeted toward her face. She rolled away just in time to avoid having her face smashed in again.

Evie expertly flipped herself upright. She and Wei Yin faced off in crouched, guarded stances, hands poised like they were shooting invisible fireballs. Sam and Dean came around the far corner in time to see the women silently studying each other.

"Evie!" Dean called. He started toward the martial arts showdown. Neither broke eye contact or moved a muscle, despite the boys' rapid advance. When the boys were five feet away, Sam held Dean back. All four stood taut, silent, waiting for someone to make a move. It was Dean whose impatience got the best of him. He stepped forward, hoping to charm the ladies down from a cat fight … although Evie and a hot Asian woman rolling around on the ground ….

Wei Yin grabbed Dean's wrists, twisting them together like a pretzel and using the torque to toss the confused man-child – still with images of Evie and Wei Yin pulling and yanking at each other's wet, clingy, white T-shirts in his dirty mind – to the ground. The impact knocked the breath from Dean's lungs.

Evie took advantage of the opportunity and struck. So did Sam. Wei Yin and Evie exchanged even blows. Wei Yin simply hit Sam with a powerful side kick and sent him flying into a nearby dumpster. The perilous choreography continued – punch, block, kick, block. The women's steps were perfectly matched: yin and yang.

Dean crawled to safety near Sam and the dumpster. "Evie's doing pretty good, huh?" he grinned, breathing heavily.

Just then a potent punch knocked Evie's head back on her shoulders. She recovered quickly, blocking another fist and spinning to avoid Wei Yin's next move. The middle-aged woman seemed to never tire. Evie came out of her spin facing Wei Yin's back; it was a vital mistake. Evie firmly planted her foot in the small of the older woman's back and pushed, sending Wei Yin stumbling toward the brick wall near the dumpster where Sam and Dean crouched in awe.

She rotated on tiny, deft feet to face her opponent; the look in her eyes definitively authoritative. "I tire of you," she said coldly. She got a running start at Evie, leaping into the air, her legs bicycling. Evie sidestepped, narrowly avoiding being pummeled by Wei Yin's furious feet. She grasped Wei Yin's arm and attempted to use the woman's momentum to throw her, but Wei Yin also grabbed Evie. The momentum carried them in a tumbling heap until the far wall abruptly stopped them.

Wei Yin landed on top of Evie, and she quickly gained the upper hand. Keeping hold of Evie's wrist, she bent it sharply, breaking it in one motion. Evie yelped.

Sam and Dean leapt from their crouched positions as observers to come to Evie's aid. Wei Yin suddenly produced small throwing knives from a hidden spot and flung them at the boys. Dean lost his footing trying to avoid the blade and fell comically on his butt. Sam tripped over Dean, which caused him to duck; the blade missed his head by no more than a foot.

Wei Yin turned back to Evie, who popped her wrist loudly back into place and lunged at Wei Yin, catching her off guard. Evie head butted her and Wei Yin fell back. She pulled another blade from her belt and came at Evie, slashing. She sliced Evie's cheek. Blood poured from the wound, then within seconds it was closed, completely healed. Evie wiped her face, leaving a smudge of blood.

Wei Yin's eyes widened to the size of saucers. She turned to run, but Sam and Dean closed her in, forming a triangle with Evie at the top. She turned back to Evie in fear. "What are you?"

"She's not the one you need to be afraid of," Dean said.

"Please, just let us explain," Sam said, earnestly, hands held out in front of him.

"Yeah, without the knives and the ass kicking. Please," Dean said.

* * *

"Why would he kill those people?" Wei Yin asked, tears in her eyes.

"I know it's hard to believe," Sam said sympathetically.

Wei Yin sat with her hands around a cup of tea, eyes staring blankly.

"We know he was murdered," Dean said quietly.

Wei Yin's eyes snapped to Dean's as a single tear spilled down her cheek. She wiped at it absently and looked at her watch. "I need to go," she said, standing urgently.

Evie, still sitting, reached out, grasped Wei Yin's hand, and slowly shook her head "no." Wei Yin started to cry harder. "He is my son!" Wei Yin cried.

"I know," Evie sighed. "He was."

"He is," Wei Yin insisted.

"No, Wei Yin," Evie said. "He's not your son anymore. He's an egui."

Wei Yin bowed her head and sat heavily. Her tears flowed freely now. It clearly took effort to pull herself together before she spoke. "Then you know why I feed him."

"You can't feed him, Wei Yin. You know that," Evie said. "He'll never be satisfied. He'll keep killing."

"I can't stop him!" Wei Yin exclaimed.

"You can," Evie encouraged. "You just have to stop leaving sacrifices. No more food, no more altars, no more offerings."

"You can't ask me that!" Wei Yin said. "It's tradition! It's honor!"

"Look, it's the only way to stop the killing," Dean said.

Evie shot a sideways glance at Dean, hushing him.

"The offerings tie his spirit to this world," Evie said. "The only way to put him to rest is to stop and let him go."

Wei Yin's lip quivered, and she continued to shed tears. "How do I just stop?"

"You just … stop. And, you honor his memory by remembering the good times you had together," Evie soothed.

Wei Yin shook her head "yes" without speaking. She was still trying to keep herself together.

"Can we walk you home?" Sam offered.

"No. I have no home," she said.

Remembering that she was homeless, Sam felt like an asshole.

Evie spoke up, saving Sam from his embarrassment. "Hey. Why don't you take my room for the night?" She pulled the key from her pocket and handed it to the distraught mother, who took it gratefully.

* * *

Evie tossed her bag on the queen bed furthest from the door, then she took a nosedive onto the bed and lay with her eyes closed, arms and legs spread-eagled across the mattress.

"Hey, that's my bed," Sam said under his breath. But, Evie still heard him.

"Nope," she said succinctly. "That's all you guys," she said pointing at the other bed.

Dean didn't even try to talk his way out of it; he just pouted. Then, he perked up. "Well, Sam, looks like you're sleeping on the floor."

"No. Ah ah. You're sleeping on the floor," Sam retorted.

"Would you guys grow up? You're brothers. Share a bed," Evie muttered sleepily, her voice muffled by the blankets.

"Not gonna happen," Sam and Dean said in unison.

"Fine!" Dean whined. "I'll sleep in the car."

"OK," Evie said, already drifting into sleep.

* * *

Evie snuggled in Cas' arms. They enveloped her, and she felt comfortable and safe. She looked up into his deep blue eyes. He gazed back, smiling. She felt so warm, so peaceful. She couldn't remember anything else but this.

She moved in for a kiss, but Cas spoke right before their lips met. "Wake up, Evie," he said in a commanding bass.

She pulled back, confused. The peaceful warmth faded just a bit. She felt cold.

"Wake up!" Cas shouted.

Evie woke with a start. Sam snored lightly in the bed next to hers, the overhead fan whirred, and the sounds of passing traffic wafted in trough the poorly insulated windows. But, there was another sound, too. Someone or something was rustling through the trash can.

Evie peered into the tiny kitchenette, careful to only move her eyes. A short apparition with a needle-like neck and an insignificant orifice where the mouth should have been dug through the garbage, sucking on everything it pulled out. The egui.

Evie slowly moved her hand underneath her pillow, reaching for the gun she always kept there. Just as she wrapped her fingers around it, Sam awoke. He sat upright, pulling a sawed-off shotgun from underneath his own pillow. The egui turned toward him, dropping an empty Styrofoam cup and a burger wrapper on the floor.

Sam fired a salt round, and the egui disappeared in a dusty mess, screaming.

"Get Wei Yin! She must have built another shrine," Sam exclaimed. Evie ran toward the door. The egui appeared just in front of her as she reached for the doorknob. As soon as she saw it she dropped to the floor. Sam fired another round and again the egui vanished.

Evie ran out the door, headed to the next room, where they had sent Wei Yin. Dean ran toward Evie, toting a shotgun and an iron crowbar. He tossed the crowbar to Evie and continued into the room where the gunshots continued.

Evie kicked the door in and found Wei Yin praying before an altar covered in food and incense. She turned a vicious glare toward the intruder. "You can't stop us!" she whispered.

Evie paused, horror washing over her. "You knew he was killing," she said.

"They all deserve it! My boy didn't deserve to die!" Wei Yin hissed.

Evie started toward the altar, planning to destroy it, but Wei Yin produced a throwing star from her belt. She flashed it threateningly at Evie.

Evie set her jaw and her will. "Bring it on!"

Wei Yin launched a throwing star, which lodged itself just above Evie's collarbone. Gritting her teeth through the pain, Evie didn't slow. She swung the crowbar like a baseball bat, grazing Wei Yin's ear. The woman squealed but grabbed another blade. She sliced Evie multiple times: across the face, across the neck, across the chest. Each wound healed, leaving only remnants of spilled blood.

Evie pulled the star from her collarbone. "Come on, Wei Yin!" she said. "This has to stop."

"I will never stop!" the mother screamed. She launched herself at Evie, in full attack mode. This time, Evie stood her ground. Wei Yin stabbed, sliced, and even bit her, but she never gave way. She push kicked Wei Yin back, and when the furious mother attacked again, Evie pulled another knife from her side and stabbed Wei Yin with two blades, both in the heart.

Wei Yin's eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect "oh." Then, her eyes closed and her body went slack as her life drained away. Evie didn't even spare a moment to look at the dead woman at her feet. She stepped through the puddle of blood forming around Wei Yin and stomped the altar to pieces.

Dean ran into the doorway and eyed the mess on the floor, including the heap that was Wei Yin's bloody corpse. Evie turned at the sound, smashing a banana under her foot. "Ah! I like these boots!"

"What?!" she exclaimed in response to Dean's judgmental stare.

"I assumed you were gonna talk to her," Dean said.

"She didn't wanna talk," Evie replied plainly.

Sam appeared behind Dean, breathing heavily. He looked regretfully at the body on the floor. Evie was about to defend herself to the other brother when they all heard the sirens approaching. This time she did spare a glance at the grieving mother she had failed to save as the hunters skillfully fled the scene.

* * *

"Watch the leather," Dean warned Evie. "I better not find any blood back there."

Evie rolled her eyes. Dean still treated this car better than he'd ever treated a lady.

"It's a good thing you woke up when you did, Evie," Sam said. "Who knows what she could have made the egui do to us … if she was controlling him."

"Yeah," Evie sighed. She stared out the window, thinking of how Cas warned her. Was that just her subconscious or was that really Cas?

"Earth to Evie! Come in," Dean called from the front seat.

"Yeah!" Evie replied.

"Did you hear me? I asked if you've heard from Cas," Dean said.

Evie hesitated. "Uh, no."

Sam and Dean shared a curious glance. Evie observed this unspoken conversation that could take place in a millisecond between the brothers and knew she owed them further explanation.

"They're just dreams," she started. She paused before continuing. "I mean … I was pretty sure they were just dreams … until he warned me about the egui."

"Cas warned you about the egui?" Sam asked, brow furrowed.

"Well, he yelled at me to wake up," Evie said. "And, I woke up and … you know the rest."

"How long have you been having these _dreams_?" Dean asked.

"They started about a week after Vegas. He's come to me every night since," Evie said.

"And you didn't tell us?!" Dean raised his voice, clearly frustrated, and maybe a little jealous. "I pray to him every night and I get squat. And, you're getting private dances!"

"Dean," Sam uttered. "They are …" He shrugged suggestively.

Dean set his jaw and looked out the window. "So," he finally said. "He tell you anything? Any news on Crowley or the tablet?"

"No, we didn't exactly … talk," Evie said, a little embarrassed.

Dean tensed, while Sam nervously cleared his throat.

"Look, I'll ask," Evie offered. She saw how uncomfortable the boys were. You could cut the tension in the car with a butter knife if you wanted to. She quickly dropped the subject.

* * *

Evie had trouble falling asleep for the next four nights. Since she had been dreaming about Cas, it felt like sleep just took her, like she simply fell into Cas' arms every night and was gently rocked into a peaceful slumber … or a fiery orgasm. Either way, sleep had come quickly and easily. But, not now. Now, she lay awake, tossing and turning, trying to conjure images of Cas.

She rolled onto her back, restlessly, and stared at the dark ceiling. "Fall asleep!" she commanded her brain. How about counting sheep? She had never tried that before. OK, one, two … She saw a shadow move from the corner of her eye. She shot upright in the bed.

_Flutter_.

Cas appeared next to her, sitting in the bed. He leaned casually on one arm and smiled invitingly. Evie smiled back. "Three," she said.

"What?" he asked.

"Nevermind," she said, moving closer. She leaned in for a kiss, but Cas pulled away. He appeared to be concentrating. "What is it?" Evie asked, concerned.

Cas looked down at himself, then at his surroundings. "I'm not here," he said as if just realizing this. Before Evie could ask more questions, Cas kissed her hard, holding her face tightly. A barrage of images and feelings flooded Evie's mind: a tablet with ancient writing, a ring of holy fire, darkness, oppressive heat and fire, blood, sweat, demons, torture … and the final image, the most potent for Evie … Crowley's leering face.

Evie blinked and, suddenly, she was soaked in sweat and Cas was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"That's where Cas is, so that's where I'm going!" Evie yelled.

"How do you even know where he is, Evie? You saw a jumble of images that could mean anything … or, or nothing!" Dean argued.

"Because I know!" Evie insisted. "Crowley has Cas and the tablet in Hell! And I'm going to get him. End of story!"

"No!" Dean shouted. "Look, if he is in Hell, it's too dangerous!"

"If it were Sam, you'd already be at the crossroads making a deal," Evie said.

"She's right, Dean," Sam said solemnly, rounding the corner where he had been eavesdropping. "He's been to Hell and back for both of us … maybe it's our turn."

"Sam, look, she saw …" Dean started.

"I heard what she saw," Sam said.

"OK, then you know that fire, blood, torture … that could be anywhere," Dean said.

"Where else would Crowley take the tablet?" Evie asked.

Dean sighed. "Evie, you know this is a trap."

"Cas told me where he is for a reason," Evie said.

"Yeah, maybe because Crowley wanted him to," Dean said.

A fire lit in Evie's eyes, extinguishing the underlying sadness. She approached Dean, looking directly up into his eyes. He had six inches and sixty-five pounds on her, but she still intimidated him. "I'm going to rescue Cas," she said resolutely. "I'll go alone if I have to."

"I'm going with you," Sam piped up.

Sam and Evie looked at Dean critically and expectantly. Both were silently judging him for putting up such a fight about this, but both also knew he'd end up leading the charge.

"We're gonna need some help," Dean said finally.

* * *

"This is gonna be tricky," Dean said.

"That's an understatement," Sam said. "All the angels we know are dead, except Cas. I'm sure the ones left, if there are any, aren't in Cas' fan club. Demons won't help, obviously, so no deals. … What are you thinking? Witches? Some kind of spell?"

"Ew. No witches. Filthy, nasty jezebels. Disgusting," Dean said with contempt.

"You haven't gotten over your witch phobia?" Evie asked from the backseat.

"It's not … a phobia," Dean said.

"OK, so no witches," Sam said. "Then, what?"

"You'll see," Dean said. He diverted his eyes and focused on the dark, deserted road. The road didn't ask questions or expect sensible answers.

"Dean?"

"We're here."

Dean guided the Impala onto the shoulder. From their vantage point, they had full view of a massive mansion. There appeared to be no electricity, but they could see candlelight in a few windows.

Sam recognized the Alpha Vampire's abode immediately. "Oh, no, Dean! No! Not him!" he exclaimed. "Do you think he's just gonna open the door to Purgatory for us?"

"I don't know, maybe. You have a better idea?" Dean asked.

"I don't know! We'll research or ask around, find another coyote like Ajay or …"

"Or, what, Sam? Just die?" Dean asked.

"That's exactly what'll happen if we stay here because he is going to kill us!" Sam huffed.

"Hey, does anyone want to clue me in on the suicide scheme?" Evie asked sarcastically.

"The Alpha Vampire," Sam said with a mix of contempt and fear.

Evie sat still for a moment, as if feeling the weight of this undertaking for the first time. Then, with sudden resolve, she exited the car, not bothering to be quiet about it.

"Whoa!" Dean exclaimed. The boys hurried after her. Evie made a beeline for the front door of the mansion.

"It had to be vampires," Evie hissed as Dean and Sam caught up to her. "We could have cast a spell, but, no … somebody thinks witches are gross."

"Keep your voice down," Sam whispered urgently, but he saw he was too late. They were already surrounded and not twenty feet from the front door.

"Uh … we're here to see your father," Dean said.

* * *

The vampires brought the humans to a stately room. It was difficult to discern much about it by candlelight other than the fact that it was large and full of shadows – and probably more vamps. It was mostly empty, except for an old, expensive-looking rug and an ornately carved, throne-like wooden chair upholstered in silk and draped in shadows. All they could see was a hand gripping the arm of the chair. And long, yellowed fingernails.

"Mmm, the Winchesters … I smelled you from miles away," the Alpha's voice carried. "And, a new smell. Pretty, but … different."

"I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced," the Alpha said, leaning forward into the candlelight. He gazed expectantly at Evie.

"You don't need to know her name," Dean said, defensively, through gritted teeth. Evie glared back at the Alpha with clear distaste.

"We need your help," Dean said.

"Not before your lady friend explains to me why she smells like that. It's so … I can't quite put my tongue on it," the Alpha said. His next movements were too fast for the trio of hunters to see. It seemed that at one moment he sat expressionless on his throne and the next he towered, leering over Evie. She moved not a muscle, except her eyes, which fearlessly met his.

Sam and Dean took a moment to frantically scan the room for their enemy, but even when they spied him, they were unable to move for several vampires held them in place.

The Alpha's grin widened. "I admire your courage," he said. He tilted his head and leaned in to Evie's neck ever so slightly. He sniffed. Evie felt every hair on her body stand on end. She tried desperately not to show it.

"It's Crowley's potion," she said.

The Alpha's smile faltered a little.

"So don't try to bite me," Evie finished.

As the Alpha wove his way through the group, Sam spoke up. "We need your help getting that dick!"

"Yeah, different 'Dick' this time," Dean grinned at his joke, although it fell flat.

"I hear that Crowley is holed up in Hell," the Alpha said, returning to his seat.

"Right, bu—" Dean started.

"How do expect me to help with that?" the Alpha asked smugly. "You might want to summon a crossroads demon."

"There's a backdoor to Hell … through Purgatory," Dean said as if he was revealing the biggest secret of the century.

"And?" the Alpha asked indignantly.

"Wait, you know about the door?" Sam asked.

"Of course!" the Alpha said with a smile.

"Well, then you know what we want," Sam said.

"Yes …" the Alpha said. "But why should I help you? Out of the goodness of my monstrous heart?"

"Look, we're just asking for you to open the door to Purgatory," Sam said. "Let us worry about getting back out."

"You stupid ants!" the Alpha raged. "Do you think I can simply create a lunar eclipse and waltz through the door?!"

"Oh. I kinda forgot about the whole eclipse thing," Dean whispered through the side of his mouth.

"You forgot about the eclipse thing?!" the Alpha yelled.

"I know a way," Evie said calmly.

They all stopped.

"I don't think you'll like it," she said to the Alpha, who stared back questioningly. "You'll have to die."

Understanding slowly dawned across Sam and Dean's faces. The Alpha's mouth said nothing, but a warning was written all over his face: "Tread lightly. I will drain you, potion or no."

Dean's blossoming grin turned to a confused frown. "How'd you know about that?"

"Angel story time," Evie said.

"Would someone care to clue me in?" the Alpha asked, frustrated but clearly curious.

"When I ganked Dick Roman, he exploded, sent out this telepathic shockwave," Dean explained. "Cas and I were standing too close and bam. Ticket straight to Purgatory."

The Alpha tilted his head back and laughed heartily. "You want me to let you kill me so you can ride my wave into Purgatory?"

"Well, apparently, yeah," Dean said.

The Alpha threw his head back and bellowed deeply, a hearty laugh that echoed throughout the cavernous room. "This is preposterous! But, for entertainment's sake … what do I get from this deal?" the Alpha asked. "Seeing as I am the one dying, after all."

Dean shrugged. "Our eternal gratitude?"

The Alpha laughed again. "For a favor of this magnitude … I'll take the tablet. Nothing less."

Dean responded immediately, "No!"

"Then, no deal."

"You know we can't give you the tablet!" Sam exclaimed.

"Then, I'm afraid I can't help you."

"Crowley," Evie said. "We'll give you Crowley."

The Alpha's eyebrows raised. "How can you guarantee you'll be successful?"

"We're not gonna to slip out of Hell with Cas and the tablet unnoticed," Evie said. "When … _if_ we make it back to Purgatory, Crowley's sure to be hot on our heels. And you'll be there waiting for him."

"A tempting offer but for the two gaping holes in the plan," the Alpha said.

The humans were genuinely confused.

"Must I do all the thinking for you?" the Alpha asked, annoyed again. "The magic portal Dean used to leave Purgatory is a _human_ portal. That means your angel friend cannot pass through. However, being an angel, once you break the spell binding him to Hell, he'll have a literal stairway to Heaven, or wherever his little feathery heart desires."

"Convenient," Dean said.

"Yes, convenient," the Alpha said. "Convenient for all of you to double cross me and leave me to rot in Purgatory. If I am to entertain this ridiculous idea, you'll have to assure me safe passage back here," the Alpha said.

No one spoke.

"The girl stays here," the Alpha stated.

"No! No way!" Dean yelled.

"My men will take good care of her. Of course, she'll be kept in a private, secure location, just to be sure you two don't get any bright ideas," the Alpha said. "She'll be safe until _my_ return, and mine alone." He grinned smugly.

Evie spoke up before Dean could protest any further.

"Fine," she said begrudgingly.

Dean looked at her, mouth agape, about to argue.

"Look, given my history with Crowley, maybe Hell isn't the best place for me," she assured him. "I'll be fine until you get back … Poisoned blood, remember?" She took a deep breath and tears welled in her eyes. "Dean, you bring him back to me! You hear me?! Or, don't bother leaving Hell because I will send you straight back!"

"Wait, you said _two_ gaping holes …" Sam said.

"So I did," said the Alpha.

"And?!" Dean snapped.

"And … Crowley …" the Alpha led.

"Yeah, we know there's no love lost between you two," Dean said.

The Alpha groaned. "Crowley tortured me in order to learn the location of Purgatory …"

Sam's jaw dropped as he understood where the Alpha was leading them. Dean still didn't get it.

"And you want to lead him right to it," the Alpha finished.

"Oh." Dean finally understood that Crowley had no clue that the door to Purgatory was in his basement.

"Oh," the Alpha repeated sarcastically.

"So what? You'll be ready for him, take him on your turf. … Do we have a deal?" asked Sam.

The Alpha hesitated. The silence extended … longer and longer. He never blinked. "I suppose we do," he said, finally.

"Well, gear up for a fight," Dean said, more to Sam than to anyone else.

"No need for violence, Dean, although that is your forte," the Alpha teased. "I'll issue a strict hands-off memo."

"You can do that?" Dean asked.

"I can communicate with all my children. You do remember, don't you?" the Alpha asked. "Of course, not everything in Purgatory is a vampire, but suffice it to say that when that demon slime oozes from the depths of Hell, we'll have an army waiting."

* * *

"Everything … and everyone … is ready," the Alpha said stoically.

Dean looked woefully at his machete, wishing he held in his hand the blade he had used during his first stint in Purgatory. "Before we do this … I have your word that Evie'll be safe, right?" Dean asked.

"Dean, as soon as 'we do this,' my men will take your lovely lady friend to safe location, where they have orders to keep her safe and healthy until I return," the Alpha assured Dean.

Dean pursed his lips. There was a lot about this plan he didn't like, but he was certainly going to like this part quite a bit. "OK, then." Dean swung the machete with all his might and took the Alpha's head off cleanly. The head flopped and the body collapsed to the ground, then the air around them began to ripple.

Sam braced himself, expecting to be thrown or jolted in some way. Dean, however, knew it would be more like waking up from a blackout drunk in Zombieland; he readied himself to fight whatever waited for them. The final shockwave blasted from the headless corpse in all directions then returned to the epicenter, sucking all three of them into its vortex.

_Blackness._

"Boys," the Alpha's booming bass called from above.

Dean reoriented to his new surroundings quicker than Sam. They were lying on their backs in a bed of dry autumn leaves, the gray sky above as bright as it would ever get in this God-forsaken, Hell-adjacent hole; a dark form loomed nearby. Dean shot to his feet, ready for a fight.

"Welcome back, Dean. Did you miss it?" the Alpha said, eyeing the ground and the trees.

"Oh, yeah. Home, sweet home," Dean said ironically. He offered Sam a hand.

Although Dean thought of himself as a cynic and certainly a man who had seen it all, he was taken completely by surprise by what he saw when he looked up. Dozens of vamps approached from all directions, surrounding their master and the humans in a perfect circle. But they kept a reverent distance; none of them dared get too near their legendary father. To most of their race, the Alpha was almost a Biblical figure, like God to humans or Lucifer to demons.

The Alpha proudly gazed upon his adoring children. "See? An army."

"Well, if we're in an army, can we have weapons?" Dean asked the Alpha. He was on edge – twitchy, even. He was actively fighting flashbacks of running for his life day in and day out. One moment he was looking at the vamps assembled along the tree line, and the next he was surrounded, slicing at throats with precision; one moment, the Alpha – enemy, and the next, Benny – his friend.

The Alpha snapped his fingers, waking Dean from his reverie. Two vampires advanced cautiously from behind Sam and Dean and lay two blades on the ground. One was roughly two feet long, jagged, and dirty, and appeared to be carved from the bone of a large animal. The other was shorter, but not by much, smoother, and hewn from rock. Dean chose the dirty, jagged one.

Sam studied his weapon and dubiously eyed their 'army.' "How do we find the door?" he asked.

A haughty grin on his face, the Alpha knowingly looked to his left. "Come forward."

A scrawny man with grimy clothes and short brown hair stepped forward. He appeared to Sam and Dean to be more of a Stephenie Meyer vampire than an Anne Rice vampire – blue jeans and what used to be a white T-shirt, earring and frosted tips.

"That way," said Twilight, pointing. He spoke tonelessly, almost as if in a trance.

"You first," Sam said, addressing the Alpha.

The Alpha turned and started walking without a word, the army of vampires moving with him so that he stayed at the exact center of their protective monster ring.

They marched in this formation without disturbance for miles – long enough for one brother to start to relax ever so slightly. Dean, however, was as alert as he had ever been, muscles tense and senses heightened. His ears had memorized the rhythmic beat of the army's footsteps. He listened intently for anything that varied. And, finally he heard it: a twig snapping here, leaves crunching there.

Dean hurried his gait and approached the Alpha, gathering many watchful glances from the other vampires. None of them came even close to breaking formation, though.

"Hey, something's following us," Dean whispered.

"I know. I smelled them about a mile back," the Alpha replied quietly. He never slowed; his expression never changed.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"Werewolves, I think. Filthy creatures," the Alpha answered with disdain.

Sam, who had caught up to them, asked, "Why haven't the others smelled it?"

"They have," the Alpha answered, his lips always touched by an arrogant smirk.

"Then, why haven't they done anything about it?" Dean asked, confused.

"Because I have commanded them not to," the Alpha said.

The brothers were genuinely confused.

"Strategy, boys," the Alpha stated smugly. "Wait for it …"

The army of vampires changed configuration in unison. A group of ten vampires closed in a tighter circle around the brothers and their Alpha and continued walking, while the majority of the soldiers turned to face the threat behind.

Nearly two dozen werewolves attacked at that moment, pouncing and lunging, biting and slashing. Sam and Dean moved to join the defense but were stopped short by an unyielding vampire barrier.

"This fight isn't for you, boys. I need you alive to go to Hell," the Alpha chuckled.

Sam and Dean reluctantly continued forward with the Alpha and his small band of body guards while the fight raged behind them. The Alpha never bothered to grace his enemies with a glance.

"How far is it?" Dean asked anxiously.

The Alpha looked at Twilight, then answered, "Not far."

"How far is not far? I mean, are we talking hours, days, weeks?" Dean asked urgently.

"Not far," the Alpha repeated, emphasizing each word.

Within a few seconds the ring of bodyguards halted simultaneously. The four in front of the Alpha stepped aside, and they all turned to face him, forming a perfect military line. Standing before him was a tree with an oddly situated rock leaning against it. Dean looked around questioningly.

Sam said, "We're here." He started toward the tree, but the Alpha appeared directly in his path. He stared at Sam, menacingly, unblinking. "Remember our deal," he said.

"Yeah, we remember," Dean said, pushing forward.

The Alpha's ominous glare caused Dean to pause next to Sam. "If you betray me, Winchesters, Hell will be the only place you can escape my wrath." He moved aside slightly, his point made.

Sam approached the strange rock and braced himself against it, using all his might to push it aside. A hot, dusty billow of air rushed from the opening, and the surge of heat nearly singed his eyebrows. He and Dean shared a soulful look: "For Cas."

* * *

Sam and Dean wound their way through ancient stone hallways. Cells lined them all, like an infinite border of bricks along an endless road. Many of the cells were empty, but some still housed prisoners, if they could be called that. They were unrecognizable messes of what the brothers could only assume used to be humans.

Sam was moving quickly, trying not to look at any of them, but Dean was finding it difficult not remember his tour of torture. Every single day he would find new, creative ways to terrorize defenseless souls until they either turned into demons or fell apart and morphed into what existed in these cells. He stopped and peered through the bars at a creature whimpering in the shadows. Was this his handy work?

Sam noticed that he was missing the only other member of his rescue party. He turned to retrieve Dean.

"Dean, let's go," Sam urged.

"Dean?" a tiny voice called.

The brothers tried to see into the shadows in the back of the cell, but it was too dark. They could barely make out a figure. They stood, silent and wary.

The figure came forward, crawling, almost dragging itself across the filthy floor. Her face was scarred from beatings, cutting, and burns, and her matted brown hair hung limp and knotted like a dirty mop. She appeared emaciated, beaten, and terrified. "Dean, is that you?"

It took Dean a moment to see past the wild animal before him, then a spark of recognition took hold. "Bela."

Sam's eyes widened as he, too, looked past the horror and saw the thief hey had known so long ago, the woman who sold supernatural artifacts to the highest bidder, the one who had put the Colt into Crowley's hands. She was barely recognizable, but it was her.

"We've gotta get you out," Sam said, reaching for the lock. There was a key in it. Sam turned it; it gave easily as if it had been opened often. As soon as Sam pulled the door open, he and Dean both knew it was a mistake. The Bela thing lunged at them, screeching like a wild animal. Sam was able to shut the door before she reached them; they pulled away, falling back to the cell across the way. The Bela thing immediately retreated to the shadows.

"It's too late, Sam," Dean said, breathing heavily. "She's gone."

Sam stole one last glance. He couldn't see her, but he could hear a strange hissing noise coming from her cell.

Sam trotted and caught up to Dean, who was searching frantically.

"Dean, how are we supposed to find Cas?"

"I don't know, but he won't be down here. Crowley will have him somewhere special," Dean said. "This way leads out of these tunnels, if I remember right."

They ran up a short staircase to a thick wooden door. Dean cautiously cracked it just wide enough to see the hallway beyond. Two demons in deep conversation passed them without incident and rounded a corner. Dean stuck his head out and, when he saw the coast was clear, motioned for Sam to follow.

"OK, which way?" Sam whispered.

"I don't know. It's different," Dean replied. "Or, I didn't see this part."

"How big can Hell be?" Sam asked.

"If it's anything like Heaven or Purgatory … I'm guessing pretty big," Dean sighed.

They tiptoed through bland stone hallway after bland stone hallway, passing unmarked doors, tapestries, and statues. It all looked the same after a while. It would be easy to get lost in here. Dean barreled forward with forceful determination, making a mental note of each creepy landmark they passed rather than how many lefts or rights they made. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he was going to find Cas. They made another right, passing a bloody handprint tapestry, then a left around a statue of a gargoyle octopus. Dean slowed and looked around.

"Dean, we can't keep running around aimlessly. We need a plan," Sam insisted.

"If you've got one, I'd love to hear it," Dean said.

Sam looked at his feet. They stood quietly, just listening. They could hear scuffling, shouting, banging. Over time the sounds began to separate: scuffling became footsteps, shouting became words, and banging: a heavy door closing.

Sam and Dean bolted in that direction. A door swung open just before they came around the next turn. Hiding behind a Sam-sized statue of some kind of naked, demonic babe with a tail, they heard the tell-tale ravings of the man they were looking to avoid at all costs. Crowley flung insults at subordinate demons, arrogant quips that Dean could only assume massaged his little ego.

"But, sir …" a brave demon attempted.

"But, what?" Crowley howled. "'But, sir, I mucked up and let two dumb humans into the castle, and now I need you to leave your vital work to come clean up my mess!' That's right. Speak to me again, and I'll have you fileted and served up with some cabbage just so I can vomit up the rubbish!"

Both Sam and Dean's faces scrunched at that one.

"I know those bloody Winchesters are here to steal my prize, and I won't let them have him! FIND THEM!"

Sam and Dean waited until they could no longer hear a sound before peeking around the hips of the disturbingly sexy statue. Nothing. They crept toward the door, where Cas was presumably being held. Dean reached for the handle.

"Wait," Sam said. "How do we know there aren't any demons in there?"

"We don't," Dean said.

They hesitated another moment. "Can we exorcise a demon in Hell?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged and slowly pulled open the door. They peered inside. No demons. Just Cas tied to a cross-shaped apparatus. There were spatters of blood on the floor around him, and his clothes were torn. A stainless steel table full of torture tools stood to the side – Crowley's staple. Most of these were also covered in blood.

Sam and Dean hurried to Cas' side. His shirt was ripped open, and there were various wounds on his chest. Dried blood caked the button holes of his white shirt.

"Cas!" Dean whispered. "Cas!" Castiel did not respond. He appeared to be unconscious.

Sam began to work on the straps holding Cas to the cross, while Dean tapped Cas' face, trying to rouse him. Dean caught his friend's limp form as the straps came loose. Cas' head rolled back in Dean's arms; he was too weak to hold it up.

"Cas, come on, man," Dean said, shaking the angel vigorously.

"Dean, we've got to go!" Sam whispered from the door.

"Dean?" Castiel breathed.

"Hey! Cas! We're here," Dean said. "We're gonna rescue you."

"Evie?" Cas asked.

"She's safe," Dean reassured. "Come on. We need to go."

Cas managed to get his feet under him with Dean's assistance. "There we go," Dean said. "OK, you and Sam need to … poof."

"Dean, I can't poof," Cas said weakly. "My batteries are dead."

"Well, how long will it take for you to recharge?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," Cas replied. He wobbled as he tried to stand.

"Cas, where's the tablet?" Dean asked hurriedly and desperately as Cas slipped toward unconsciousness. "Cas!"

"On Earth … hidden …" Cas mumbled.

"What about the prophet?" Dean asked, but Cas passed out before he could answer.

"Dean, go," Sam said. "I'll stay with Cas."

"No," Dean said.

"Dean," Sam said. His eyes told Dean to go and lure Crowley to Purgatory, then haul the Alpha out, so he could get Evie back safely, although he said no more than Dean's name.

Dean nodded in agreement and headed for the door.

"Dean," Sam called. "Be careful."

* * *

Dean retraced his steps carefully, headed for the dungeon. Gargoyle octopus, left; bloody handprints, right; melting face carving; another right. He was approaching the entrance to the dungeon. If he was going to do this, it had to be now. He looked around. There were no demons in sight, but he could change that.

"This is so stupid," he said under his breath.

"CROWLEY!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "Come and get me, you little limey bastard!"

Two demons in suits appeared at the end of the hall and flashed furious black-eyed glares at the intruder.

"Tell your boss to come get me!" Dean said with as much bravado as he could muster and started running down the stairs to the dungeon. The demons gave chase. Dean fled as fast as he could, while trying to stick to the route they had taken. He was making pretty good headway. As he was passing a cell, something reached out and grabbed his jacket. Dean flailed, spinning until he wriggled out of the jacket. He left the monster holding his clothes and the demons eating his dust.

As he flew down the hall, he wondered if his ploy was going to be successful. Successful or not, he couldn't hang around in Hell. He'd have to go through the door.

As if he had read Dean's mind, Crowley appeared directly in Dean's path just after he rounded the last turn, blocking a straight shot at the door to Purgatory. Dean came to a screeching halt. "Crap."

"Dean," Crowley said. "Why such a hurry? You aren't leaving are you? You're a guest in my kingdom. Please, stay a while."

"I actually just came to, uh, bring you something," Dean said.

"A gift? Well, it must be special for you to hand-deliver it," Crowley said.

"Oh, it is," Dean assured. "It's right through that door." Dean pointed behind Crowley to the secret backdoor. A distrustful scowl covered his face as he inspected the area Dean had indicated. He sniffed.

"I detect vampire with a hint of dead dog," Crowley said incredulously.

"That's the door to Purgatory, and guess who's waiting on the other side?" Dean teased, grinning proudly.

"I spent the better part of a year elbow deep in monster filth, working with angels to find Purgatory, and you expect me to believe that the door was just sitting in my dungeon the whole time?!" Crowley's rage intensified with each word. "How did you get in, anyway? Only a coyote or an alpha could have got you to Purgatory, and I've put the coyotes out of business. Ah. So … you managed to get Daddy Vampire on Team Winchester," Crowley said. "And your idiotic plan is … what? Lure me to my untimely death? Dean, I'm hurt."

Dean's grin faltered.

"No worries, mate," Crowley produced a toothy smile. "You'll have eternity to make it up to me."

Crowley patted his pockets as if he was missing something. "Oh, excuse me a moment, won't you?" He disappeared and reappeared seconds later just behind Dean. He tapped the confused human on the shoulder for dramatic effect, which he loved ever so much. Dean spun on his heels.

Crowley held a glass vial containing a light blue liquid in front of Dean's face.

"Are you about to make a feminine hygiene commercial?" Dean asked, proud of his cleverness.

"Ew, gross. … It's my very own anti-vampire magic bomb," Crowley said, proud of _his_ cleverness.

Dean stayed quiet. He wasn't sure if he should be upset or pleased with this turn of events. He wouldn't shed a tear for Crowley or the Alpha Vamp; in fact, he'd be first in line to get a piece of the action in either of their deaths. There was just one problem. Well, two, really: He needed the Alpha to get to Evie, and, right now, he needed Crowley to get to the Alpha. He just had to hope Crowley's magic wasn't as good as he thought it was.

"After you, Squirrel," Crowley said.

* * *

Dean stepped through the portal, slipped and caught his balance transitioning from a sure stone grip to loose leaf litter. He tried to act nonchalant, tried to avoid eye contact with the Alpha, but the Alpha was wise and perceptive. He detected Dean's apprehension as soon as he appeared. The Alpha readied himself for the treat that the good little human was about to drop right at his feet.

A second later, the portal activated and demon meat shield number one stepped through. He cowered, although the Alpha was ten feet away. The demon, an unsuccessful writer who had sold his soul for a woman's love in 1942, was helplessly locked in eye contact with the father of all vampire-kind. He was out of his league. Way out of his league.

"Oh, enough, already," Dean said, interrupting the stare-down. "You want a fight, right?"

"If you want to be simplistic about it," the Alpha said.

"Whatever," Dean said. "Hey! Chuckles! Yeah, you, demon guy. Go tell Crowley he has Big Daddy Vamp's word that he can come through safely." Dean looked up at the Alpha at this point for confirmation. The Alpha nodded.

The demon, shaking in his boots, tucked tail and headed back to Hell as quickly as he could manage. Moments later, the portal became active, then … nothing. No one appeared. All was quiet. Dean scanned the area, confused. The Alpha didn't move a muscle but for his eyes, then he smelled it. He turned, magically fast, baring a mouthful of sharp, pointy teeth. He and Crowley were face to face, mere inches from one another.

"Comburet lamia!" Crowley recited, then he looked into the Alpha's eyes. They were concerned. Crowley sneered. "Only one part left to the spell, but I'm sure you know that."

"New magic," the Alpha said.

"New?" Crowley laughed. "This spell is six hundred years old!"

"Yes, but you forget how old I am," the Alpha said.

"And, how old is that?" Crowley continued the conversation, while taking a swagger stroll.

"I'm at least as old as the dark," the Alpha said, eerily, as if he were recalling fond memories of creeping in the night, ruthlessly hunting frightened, skittering things.

"Ha! Do you prefer one upping with tall tales or would you rather jump straight to the point and take out the rulers?" Crowley asked.

"Yes, I've heard you once had some shortcomings, but not anymore," the Alpha toyed. "Tell me, is three inches for one soul the usual exchange rate or was that a special deal for the future king?"

"All I have to do is drop this bomb, you filthy bloodsucker, and you and all your bodyguards go up in flames," Crowley threatened.

"Do you really think that will work on me?" the Alpha laughed.

"On you, maybe not, but them … I'm certain of it," Crowley said and nonchalantly dropped the vial on the ground. The next moments looked to Dean like a slow motion action scene from a Michael Bay film. The sound of each crack in the glass was pronounced as Crowley's foot descended upon the vial. As it crunched beneath his sole, a wave of blue fire detonated. Dean covered his face, but there was no reason to. The fire had no effect on him … and, at first, it appeared to have no effect on the vampires.

Then, every vampire within a mile began to burn from the inside, starting with the lungs. Gasping for air, the bodyguards clawed at their throats. Dean stared, flabbergasted, at Twilight. His chest and throat mutated from fresh-skin pink to blood red and finally to a sickly grayish-black as the fire moved from his lungs through his esophagus like smoke from a fireplace up a chimney. His skin blistered, bubbled, then melted away; steam rose from the wounds; and a disgusting sizzling noise filled the air.

Even the Alpha's chest steamed. He hissed loudly; Dean wasn't sure if with anger or pain. And, he wasn't hanging around to find out. He fled, hopping nimbly over scorching vampire corpses, and stole one last look at the big boss fight. The last thing he saw was the King of the Demons and the King of Vampires slowly walking toward each other, locked in menacing eye contact.

* * *

Dean ran at full steam until he couldn't run anymore. He slowed to a jog, then stopped, catching his breath with his hands on his knees. He inhaled deeply, his lungs hurting.

"You gonna catch a fly in your mouth if you let it hang open like that," a deep, lyrical voice said.

Dean spun, frightened at first. But fear soon changed to pleasant surprise.

"You old so and so," Dean smiled. He hugged Benny tightly, slapping him on the back. He was relieved to see his old friend.

"Dean, I don't mean to rain on the party, but what the hell were you thinking? It must've been important for you to come back here."

"You have no idea, Benny," Dean said.

"Oh, I have somewhat of an idea," Benny replied. Upon seeing Dean's confusion, he continued. "Remember, all my kind are connected. That means I knew you … and he … were coming. I'm just glad I found you before someone else did."

"Good thing it wasn't sooner," Dean said.

"Yeah, I gathered that," Benny said. "Come on, brother. We'd better get you outta here."

* * *

Cas and Sam appeared in a rest area off an empty highway. Cas, having used up all his energy to get them back here, fell into the dewy evening grass. An eighteen-wheeler barreled past and cows mooed in the distance.

Sam laid Cas down comfortably so he could sleep it off. At least, he hoped Cas could sleep this off. Who knows what Crowley did to him? Sam looked around. It was almost dusk, that time of day where the light took away the crispness of everything. Sam spied a sign for Interstate 27. They were in the panhandle of Texas. He knew a few hunters in Texas.

He saw a building near the road, probably the usual rest stop: restrooms, vending machines, and most importantly, pay phone. Sam checked on Cas; he was snoring. Probably safe to leave him here.

Sam headed toward the back of the building and rounded the corner to the roadside, where florescent lights were automatically flicking on. He spotted the pay phone. He called Cameron 1-800-COLLECT. It had to have been at least twenty years since he had called anyone collect. He felt a little ridiculous doing it.

"Sam Winchester," he said his name for the female voice. The phone started ringing. He prayed Cameron answered. It had been years since he had seen or spoken to Cameron, but he was a good guy. Lived in Amarillo. Good hunter.

"Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle," Cameron said through the phone line. "Sam Winchester!"

"Hey, Cameron!" Sam said happily.

"I'd be happy to catch up, but if you're calling, it can't be good," Cameron said.

"Uh, yeah," Sam sighed. "It's a long story. You still in Amarillo?"

"Yes, sir. You can't take this boy out of Texas," Cameron laughed.

"Could you pick me up?" Sam asked.

"Yeah! Where you at?"

"A rest stop off I-27," Sam said, looking around for more information. He saw a sign: 'Amarillo 20.' "Twenty miles south of Amarillo."

"I can't wait to hear this story," Cameron said. "Be there in a jiff."

* * *

"We're gettin' close," Benny said. There was static in the air and an unnatural breeze. They were definitely getting close.

"Hey, Dean," Benny said.

"Yeah?"

"Who's the girl?"

"What girl?" Dean asked, avoiding eye contact.

"When the firstborn of my species sent his psychic message, I saw things. I didn't understand most of it, but I saw things. I saw you and your brother. I saw his death and that y'all were coming back down here for some big mission," Benny said. "And, I saw a dark warehouse and a pretty girl with lots of vampires around her."

Dean perked up with concern. "Do you know where she is?"

"Not quite," Benny said. "Like I said, it came to me in pictures. I'd know it if I saw it. Who is she? You're sweet on her."

"Her name's Evie. She and I used to have a thing … and now, she's with my best friend," Dean spit it out like it gave him a bad taste.

"Well, you ain't talkin' 'bout me, and you ain't talkin' 'bout Sam," Benny grinned.

"Cas," Dean said.

"He made it out?" Benny nodded in approval. "He's tougher than he looks."

"Yeah, well, I hope so," Dean said. "The big mission was to rescue Cas from Hell."

"Aw, Dean!" Benny gasped in surprise. "That's what all that hoopla was about back there. Well! Where's Cas? And, Sam?"

"They were supposed to take the Cas elevator out, while I lured Crowley to Purgatory," Dean said.

"And, then what was the plan? Let the firstborn ride you out like I did? You must be dumber than I remember," Benny said disapprovingly.

"It's not like I had much of a choice!" Dean said.

"Yeah, I get it. You did it for the girl … and your buddy," Benny said. "So, you welched on your deal with the first born. That can't be good."

"No, it's not good," Dean said angrily. "For all I know, he might be dead! And he's the only way I had to get Evie back!"

"Maybe not," Benny said. "I've seen her. I've seen where they have her. Now, you boys just work your magic and get me close enough, I might be able to help."

Dean shook his head. "No, Benny. I can't ask you to—"

"You ain't asking," Benny said.

The two men shared a soulful look. The wind picked up and the portal opened in the distance.

"Now, let's get this show on the road," Benny said, producing a sharp knife.

* * *

Sam scanned every car that stopped from the shadowy side of the brick building. Only two stopped at the rest stop in the thirty minutes before Cameron arrived. One was an old, surly-looking man in a truck who visited the john and promptly moved along. The other appeared to be a dad and his teenage daughter, who spent a good ten minutes scanning the vending machine before choosing a bag of chips, a candy bar, and a soda.

Fifteen quiet minutes went by, then a blue Nissan truck slowly pulled into a spot away from the fluorescent lights. A man-sized figure exited the vehicle and reached behind his back, likely fishing a gun from his waistband. He moved forward into the light, and Sam could finally see his features: short blonde buzz cut, nose crooked from several breaks, absurdly thick neck. Cameron.

Sam revealed himself. "Cameron!"

"Sam!" Cameron exclaimed, putting his gun away. "You look like shit."

Sam laughed, as the two shook hands and slapped backs. "Like I said, long story."

"Can't wait. Let's go," Cameron said.

"Hang on, just a second," Sam said. He trotted into the field. Upon reaching Cas, he knelt down and slapped Cas' face. "Hey, Cas!"

Cas' eyes fluttered and he inhaled deeply. "What?"

"Come on, buddy. We got a ride," Sam said, helping Cas to his feet. Cas stumbled, but Sam wrapped an arm around his waist for support. They hobbled through the grass to a curious Cameron.

"He's cool. I'll explain in the truck," Sam said.

"Oh … Dean," Cas said to Cameron. "What happened to your hair?"

"No, Cas, that's not Dean," Sam said, as they walked to Cameron's truck.

"I like Dean's hair," Cas said, slurring. "I like your hair, Sam! It's so luxurious!" Cas reached up and pet Sam's head like he was a housecat. As Sam folded Cas into the middle seat of the truck, he gave Cameron an awkward all-tooth grin that said "I owe you so many beers."

* * *

Evie sat at the metal desk of a foreman named Frank Hart in the only office of an abandoned warehouse. She wasn't sure where she was, only that it had taken at least six hours to drive there. The vampires had put a bag over her head and locked her in the trunk. She also knew they were in a rural area. Rural enough that she couldn't hear anything except birds chirping at dawn and at dusk: fewer and fewer birds. The vampires must be dining on the local fare.

She could discern that windows were mostly boarded up because little light made its way into the warehouse and almost none into this office, which was likely dead center. She read Frank's personnel files by candlelight for entertainment. After three days with no electricity and no cell phone, they weren't as boring as one would think. Cal Jessup had three harassment complaints swept under the rug in 1972. He died a mysterious, forklift-related death in 1975. Sally Coors had filed a complaint against Cal and had a baby nine months later. She quit the company shortly after. It was like a soap opera.

The first night, the vampires gave her a box of cereal, a bottle of water, and a bucket to pee in. She had tried every way she could to escape, even broke the one window in the office and tried to climb out. She didn't get a leg out before she was surrounded.

The second night, the vampires brought her a fresh bottle of water and two protein bars. When she asked about changing her bathroom bucket, she got a dirty look … and kept her dirty bucket. At dawn, she picked the lock with a stray paper clip. She thought the vampires would be asleep, but as her luck would have it, there were two posted at the door.

The third night, she sat at Frank's desk reading about Frank's own son, Carl, a forklift operator, when the door flew open. The usual vamp approached and tossed her a box of Pop Tarts. Evie was examining the box – alright, frosting! – when she noticed the vamp wasn't leaving. He stood frozen, as if in a trance, his eyes unfocused and distant. She removed her feet from the desk and sat up, ready for anything. She grasped the antique sterling silver letter opener she had found in Frank's desk with a death grip.

The vamp snapped out of his haze and glared at Evie with both hatred and hunger. He snarled, drool dripping from his fangs. He lunged, and Evie dodged, jabbing at his neck with Frank's letter opener. She grabbed a handful of the vampire's hair and forced him against the door, jamming it shut while she sawed at his neck. Blood poured by the gallon, spurted onto the walls and her, and formed a thick, red puddle. With the final slice, the head remained in Evie's bloody hand, while the body plopped wetly into the sticky puddle below.

Evie heard the vamps outside the door, and now, some were getting smart and heading for the broken window. She sighed, dropped the head, and wiped off her tiny weapon. "One down."

* * *

Dean hurried through the forests of Maine in search of a road. It was a stroke of luck that he came through the portal around noon and only three miles from the only road intersecting the 100 Mile Wilderness and that an RV was passing by at the exact moment he approached the road. Dean jumped in front of the vehicle –filled with six prepubescent Boy Scouts and two dorky Scoutmasters loudly singing Camp Town Races – yelling and waving his arms.

The overstuffed camper came to a screeching halt. The boys screamed, and the adults stared wide-eyed at the sweaty, disheveled man in the road.

"I, uh, was camping, and I got lost," Dean tried. "Can I get a ride outta here?"

The man in the passenger seat promptly stood and opened the camper's door. "Welcome, camper!" he said cheerily. "Join us."

Dean put on his best trustworthy face, and quickly rolled down his sleeves to hide Benny. There's no telling what an RV full of kids would do if they saw his swollen, squirming forearm.

"I'm Steve," said the Scoutmaster who opened the door. Dean shook his hand firmly. "This, here, is Tom," Steve said, indicating the driver. They both wore windbreakers, glasses, and goofy grins.

"Thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it," Dean said, sitting in the only open spot: at one of the two dining booths … with three suspiciously silent ten-year-olds. Dean glanced uncomfortably at the boys from the corner of his eyes. "I guess I'm just not an outdoors guy," he called to Steve and Tom, further selling his story.

"It's not for everyone," Steve chirped.

One of the suspiciously silent boys who had been giving Dean the stink eye got up from the booth with the smoothness of a virgin trying to pick up a hot chick. There was always one bold one in the group, and it was usually the fat kid. This kid looked like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man's little brother … and a smart ass. With his hands in his pockets, Stay Puft shuffled to the front and whispered to Scoutmaster Steve. Dean overheard something about 'creepy' and 'serial killer.' That little twerp had better not be talking about him.

"Johnathan!" Steve exclaimed. "I'm surprised at you. Have a seat! Scouts, what is our promise?"

All six boys (including an unenthusiastic Stay Puft) piped up and recited in unison: "On my honor I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country and obey the Scout Law; to help other people at all times, to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight."

Steve nodded proudly. Dean returned his nod and flashed a self-satisfied, shit-eating grin Stay Puft's way.

"Hey, uh, Steve? You got a cell phone?" Dean asked.

* * *

"Hold on. Hell?" Cameron asked incredulously.

"You don't know the half of it." Sam grinned and took a swig of beer.

Cameron, Sam, and Castiel sat at a small table in the back of a grimy dive bar. There was a line of motorcycles out front, Metallica on the juke box, and several games of pool going with obviously high stakes. No fights so far, but the night was young. And loud. Cas awoke, lifting his head off the table.

"Cas, how you doing?" Sam asked.

"Better," he replied, rubbing his head.

"You look like hammered shit," Cameron said.

"Thank you," Cas said earnestly. "I'd imagine that's a compliment after what I've experienced."

"So, you're really an angel?" Cameron asked.

"Yes," Cas replied.

"I thought angels were powerful," Cameron challenged, drinking some more.

"I'm not as powerful as I used to be. Sam can attest to that. But, I've still got some juice," Cas said. "But, obviously, the King of Hell is no one to scoff at."

"I never believed in religious mumbo jumbo, just demons, ghosts, monsters that'd rip your beating heart out," Cameron said. "Guess I should've paid more attention in Bible study."

"Sam? Where's Dean? Did he make it?" Cas asked, suddenly concerned, as if he'd just realized their posse was one man short.

"Yeah, Cas, don't worry," Sam said. "He made it. Benny, too."

"Benny?!" Cas exclaimed. "What did you do?"

"Look, Cas—"

"Where's Evie?" Cas demanded.

When Sam didn't answer, Cas rose abruptly from his seat. He tripped slightly, but Sam caught him. "Whoa!" Sam exclaimed. "Take it easy. We're going to meet Dean and Benny, and we'll find her."

"Why are we waiting around here?!" Cas shouted.

"Look, I needed to eat. You needed to recharge," Sam said. His eyes were shooting around the bar; they had attracted attention. That was never a good thing in a place like this. "We can go now. In fact, we should probably go right now."

They turned to leave, but the path to the door was blocked by a gang of ten, big, bearded, mean looking bikers. "You ladies going somewhere?" asked the meanest looking one whose braided beard grew down to his chest.

Cameron stepped up, crossing his huge arms over his huge chest. "As a matter of fact, we're leaving," he said.

"I don't think so," said Long Beard. Several bikers pulled out shotguns and pumped them.

"Anyone can shoot someone," Cameron said. "You think you can take me in a hand-to-hand fight, tough guy?"

"Oh, yeah," Long Beard said. He looked back at his gang, and they tossed their shotguns to the ground. "But, I think we have a slight advantage." The bikers all blinked in unison, and when their eyes opened, they were solid black.

Sam expertly pulled out the knife. Long Beard laughed. "Oh, please, Winchester. There are ten of us and one knife."

"Yeah? Well, we got something you don't!" Cameron said, confrontationally. "We got us an angel."

Sam flashed an "I wish you hadn't said that" look at Cameron. Cas looked surprised, like a toddler caught doing something naughty.

Long Beard's smile faltered for only the briefest moment, then it returned with extra bravado. "Bring it on, big boy."

The demons charged, yelling and laughing like crazed banshees. Before Cameron or Sam could react, Cas raised his arm in front of him and bared his palm. Blinding light emanated from his hand and his eyes, then it grew to encompass his entire body. Scared, the demons stopped short and cowered.

"He can't kill all of us!" Long Beard screamed. "You ain't got it, little wing!" The head demon lunged at Cas, and Cas placed his hand on his head. The demon fell at Cas' feet, dead.

Maybe it was the loss of their fearless leader, a sense of survival, or inferior facial hair, but the other demons tucked tail and ran for their lives. Cas' angel mojo dominance display diminished, and he grabbed a nearby chair for stability. Cameron stared, awestruck.

"OK, Cas, you're right," Sam said. "Let's get going."

* * *

Evie stood in a lake of blood, surrounded by vampire bodies and heads. It had taken three hours of cat and mouse games, brute force, and sawing with a letter opener to remove the heads of all six of her keepers. She was exhausted and covered in dried blood, wet blood, and thick, goopy blood. Gross.

She could hear a bird chirping. Dawn was coming.

Evie gripped the heavy desk and slid it away from the door. With two bodies against the door, she could only open it a crack, but it was enough to squeeze through. She looked right, then turned left to run. And, ran right into a tall, crazy buff vampire in a suit. He didn't budge; she bounced off his chest like a gymnast off a trampoline. She stumbled but managed to stay upright, tightened her grip on the letter opener, reared back and swung with all her might.

She managed to stab the letter opener into his broad, muscular shoulder. He grasped her wrist and squeezed so hard that she lost her grip on her weapon, which he pulled effortlessly from the wound. The letter opener clanged to the floor. Evie was starting to doubt her chances. After running into Dean Winchester and getting sucked into the wildest series of events since, well, dating Dean Winchester … after falling in love with an angel, a species she didn't even believe to exist … after being kidnapped and tortured by the King of Hell … after single-handedly slaughtering six vamps with a letter opener, it was going to end like this: One wrong turn, one lucky vamp, one dead girl.

"Don't worry, food," the vamp said. "I'm starving, but I'm not going to eat you."

"You're not?" she asked, suspicious.

"No," he said. "Something went wrong, but when my master returns – and he will return – I will prove my loyalty by doing my duty. And, I remember what these halfwits apparently forgot: Your blood is poison. If I drink from you, I will likely perish, you will escape, and then I will suffer unfathomable horrors in the afterlife."

"So, are you going to keep me here, on a decomposing heap of your buddies?"

Anger flashed in his eyes. "They weren't my friends," he said. "And, no. This place is no longer safe. Let's go." He yanked hard, nearly pulling Evie's arm from its socket.

* * *

Dean read the name on the tombstone: Terrance Claiborne. He stood in the cemetery at The Parish of the Sacred Heart outside Philadelphia.

"Alright, this should be the spot," Dean said to his squirming, glowing, red forearm. "Looks like I've got to do all the heavy lifting, as usual."

He grabbed the shovel off the ground and started to dig. He hated this part; that's why he always let Sam take over. It was a cool night, but sweat still dripped down his back, forming a V in front and back of his gray T-shirt. He ignored the pain in his forearm and let the mindless repetition take over. Dig in, scoop, up and over the shoulder, and repeat. Finally, about five feet deep, he reached what he had been digging for: Benny's bones, buried just above the coffin of one Mr. Terrance Claiborne.

He unearthed all the bones, then climbed out of the hole. After completing the ritual, he turned to see Benny, in the flesh again. Dean smiled as he wrapped his bleeding wound.

"Good to see ya again, brother," Benny greeted his friend.

"Yeah, you, too, man," Dean said.

"So, get me up to speed," Benny said. "Where's Sam and Cas?"

"They popped up in Texas," Dean said.

"Mmm, I could go for some Southern barbecue. And, where are we?" Benny asked.

"Philly," Dean said.

"Guess you didn't want to go far with my decapitated body in the trunk," Benny grinned. He looked down into the hole, then up at the tombstone. "Didn't even spring for a coffin?"

Dean felt bad. After he had decapitated Benny, he had not only been in a rush, but he also wanted to hide Benny's bones as inconspicuously as possible, in case he could ever bust Benny out of Purgatory. He was about to explain all that when Benny waved his hand. "I'm just ragging you, brother," he smiled. "So, what's the plan?"

"We're meeting Sam and Cas in Memphis, and I need you to tell me everything you can about where Evie is," Dean said.

"I'll describe it as best I can, anything I can do to help you find your lady friend," Benny said. "Hey, brother, I hate to ask, but could we, uh, hit a blood bank on the way?"

* * *

The clock in the car read 5:45 AM. It was that hour of day where the light began to reveal itself, painting a strange hue across the sky and casting foreboding shadows over the world. The vamp in the driver seat looked nervous.

"Wanna stop for some sunblock?" Evie quipped. She was still on edge, of course, sitting in the passenger seat next to a vampire who kidnapped her … again. But, with the impending dawn so near, she was feeling a lot better about her situation. One might say things were looking brighter.

She grinned confidently, thinking of sunrise and dawn metaphors and waiting for the opportunity to slip her captor. She was just waiting for the sun to rise on the new day of opportunity for … crap. The nondescript dark sedan slowed and pulled off the road behind an old, abandoned gas station. It was a tiny building with two pumps; the gas had been shut off decades ago. Likely, no one had been inside for at least ten years.

"Hey, yeah, great idea," Evie performed. "I'll go inside and see if there's any sunblock. You just wait here." She made a move for the door handle, but the vampire punched her in the face, knocking her unconscious, before she could reach it.

* * *

At the same time Dean and Benny were hijacking a car in the Philadelphia suburbs and Evie was being assault by a vampire behind some gas station somewhere, Sam and Cas were driving north on Interstate 30 in Arkansas. Sam had been driving for six hours, and he hadn't slept in about forty six. He yawned and rubbed his eyes.

"You know, I know how to drive, Sam," Cas said.

"No, yeah. I'm fine," Sam assured Cas. "Besides, I've seen you drive."

"I'm a safe driver," Cas said seriously. "Sam, you need to rest."

"OK, Cas. You're right. I could use a couple hours," Sam said. He pulled the blue minivan off the road and switched places with Cas. Sam latched his seat belt and was asleep in about seven seconds.

Cas tried to keep his mind on the driving ritual. Focusing on minute details seemed to stave off the worry – one of a plethora of new emotions. He had been fighting this new, uncomfortable feeling since Sam told him that Evie was being held by vampires and likely in grave danger. He readjusted the seat; Sam was a fair bit taller than he was. Next, he checked and adjusted his mirrors; he saw no other headlights but still flicked on the blinker. He pressed down lightly on the accelerator and turned the steering wheel.

Suddenly, images of Evie flooded his mind; they were all he could see. They came in flashes: waves of vampires, beheadings, a dark car ride, an old gas station. She called his name, then a bright light and a blinding pain pierced Cas' head. His hands shot to his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to shield himself from it, and his foot floored the gas pedal. The van's cheap tires screeched as the former soccer team transport launched across both northbound lanes toward the median.

Sam jolted awake from a deep sleep. He saw Cas covering his eyes and vehicle heading at fifty miles per hour in a jagged path toward the median. "Cas!" Sam screamed as he took control of the wheel. "Brakes!" He steered the van back to the right side of the road, but Cas' foot was still firmly planted on the gas. Holding the wheel steady with his left hand, Sam extended his tree-length leg into the driver's side, pushing Cas' foot out of the way, and pressed down on the brakes. The van came to an abrupt halt straddling the shoulder and grass.

"Cas! Hey!"

Cas carefully opened his eyes. Evie and the bright lights were gone, and the pain was fading.

"What the hell happened, dude? I let you drive once, and you nearly kill us?" Sam exclaimed.

"I saw Evie," Cas said, catching his breath.

"Wait, you saw her? Saw her how?" Sam asked.

"It was a collection of images. It was like a …"

"A vision," Sam finished. "You know, Evie was having these dreams about you. That's how we knew Crowley had you. But, they were obviously more than just dreams."

"Yes. It seems that Evie and I have a mental connection," Cas said. "That means that what I just saw is real."

"What did you see?"

Cas held his breath, and his eyes scanned his memories, trying to make sense of everything he had seen. "Uh, I don't know."

"Just think. One thing at a time," Sam soothed.

"I saw vampires, and lots of blood. I think she beheaded many vampires," Cas recalled.

Sam listened raptly.

"And then I think she was in an automobile. It was dark," Cas said.

"Where was she in the car? Was she alone?" Sam pressed.

"I, uh," Cas closed his eyes. "She could see outside. I don't think she was driving."

"Was she tied up?"

"Sam, I don't know!"

"OK, OK. What else did you see?"

"An old gas station," Cas said.

"A gas station? Great! Did you see a sign?" Sam inquired, excited.

"No," Cas sighed. "It didn't look modern, though. It appeared to be abandoned for quite some time."

"Not modern? Like, antique?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"OK, Cas, that's good! Anything else?" Sam asked.

"She called for me, Sam," Cas said, hanging his head. "I have to find her."

* * *

Benny pulled the rusty, old truck into a parking spot next to a blue minivan that looked it had seen some rough times. Dean looked around the sparse lot for a car that screamed Sam, but nothing spoke to him: It was just the minivan, a Garth-mobile (a real lady killer), and the rusty, old truck. But, it was only five in the morning.

"Guess we can grab some pig and joe while we wait," Dean said, stomach growling. He frowned once he realized what he had said. "Oh, I meant coffee, not Joe Schmo."

"I know what you meant, brother," Benny said, laughing it off. "Coffee sounds good."

They left the truck and entered the twenty-four hour diner to find that Sam and Cas had already arrived. Sam and Dean's eyes met, and they shared a moment that only two people who had been through great ordeals together could share. They met in the middle of the restaurant and hugged tightly.

"Cas!" Dean said cheerily as he and Sam separated. "It's good to see you up and around."

"Dean, I can never begin to thank you for rescuing me," Cas said soberly.

"It's cool, Cas," Dean said, clearing his throat. He struck a pose for his big line: "I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from prohibition." He grinned, proud of his delivery.

"Uh, Dean, that's not correct," Cas said.

"Whatever, let's sit down," Dean redirected.

"Good to see you, Benny," Sam said.

"You, too," Benny said. "I'm sure you'll understand if we postpone our catching up for later."

"Tell 'em," Dean said.

"I saw where your girl is being held … sort of," Benny said. "I saw a bunch of pictures in my head, probably when the maker sent out his Purgatory draft. It was like a …"

"A vision," Cas finished.

"Yeah," Benny said.

"I had one, too," Cas said.

"I saw her in a dark place – warehouse, or storage room, I think. It's at least a night's drive from his mansion. I'm assuming y'all know where that is," Benny finished.

Sam nodded in agreement. Dean had already heard the story.

"They took her: his close, personal guards." Benny looked at Cas now. "They wouldn't dare hurt her."

"They may not have hurt her, but she hurt them," Sam said. "At least, most of them." Benny and Dean seemed confused.

"My vision … I think Evie killed her captors and attempted to escape," Cas began his story. "Next, I saw her in a car next to a vampire. Then, a gas station. Then, nothing."

"Well, I understand how I saw what I saw, but what about you?" Benny inquired.

"I think it has something to do with the _intimate_ nature of our relationship." Cas delicately articulating the word intimate.

"Oh," Benny said. He looked over at Dean, who was concentrating on a coffee ring on the table. "Oh."

"I was able to call out to her –psychically, if you will – when I was being held in Hell, which led Sam and Dean to me. And, I believe she was able to reach out to me," Cas said.

"OK, so she's at a gas station?" Dean asked. "Where?"

"I don't know," Cas said.

"Well, that's helpful," Dean said, frowning.

"Hold on," said Sam. "Let's start with what we do know."

"Which is?" Dean snapped.

"Where we started: Missoula, Montana," Sam said.

Dean sighed with frustration. "That's at least a day's drive."

"No, he's right, Dean," Benny said. "We don't start at square one, we'll be running around like chickens with our heads cut off."

"Right," Cas agreed. "And, we're no chickens. Let's not waste time." He stood and passed quickly to the door, his zeal grounded with a solid pan.

* * *

Evie's head ached like a bitch. She tried to roll over, get out of bed, and retrieve some Tylenol – or whiskey, whichever she had – but, she couldn't. Her wrists were bound with rope behind her back. She lay on her side on a very hard surface in a puddle of sweat. Her clothes and her hair were soaked. It was hard, but she forced her eyes open, and a bead of salty, stinging sweat seized the opportunity to blind her.

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, then blinked rapidly, trying to produce tears. She heard sudden movement, and it seemed to be approaching. Then, she felt a rag on her forehead, wiping the sweat from her face. She breathed a sigh of relief and began to smile. Cas? Dean?

Evie opened her eyes expectantly as the rag was pulled away. Her smile was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

"That's better," said the vampire who had taken her.

"It's hot as balls in here," Evie said, regaining a bit of her bite.

"It's hot because we don't have false air flow," the vamp said.

"Wow, you've a sharp one," Evie said, righting herself.

"I brought water and the last … Healthy Nut Bar," he said, reading from the label of a small, green package. He looked up at Evie, and the two stared at each other.

"Great, so could you untie these ropes, so I can eat?" Evie asked.

"Oh, no, definitely not," he said. "But, don't worry. I'll feed you."

"Uh …"

The vamp unwrapped the Healthy Nut Bar and shoved it at Evie's mouth. She clamped her lips shut and turned her head in defiance like a pouty child. At first the vamp just stroked her face and made shushing noises – like a mother might make to comfort a crying baby or a nurse might make to calm a mental patient – as he poked at her face with the food. But, after Evie pulled back hard enough to smack her awkwardly bound upper limbs against the painted cinderblock wall, the vamp had clearly had enough.

He snapped: The look in his eyes no longer gentle and creepily caring but now deranged and furious. He seized her checks and forced her face forward and her mouth open. He jammed the Healthy Nut Bar into Evie's unwilling mouth, past her tongue and partially into her helpless throat. If not for Crowley's damned potion, she might have asphyxiated right there in that filthy gas station.

"I am your caretaker!" the vamp shrieked, spewing spit with each syllable. "Now, eat for me!" He loosened his grip and pulled the Healthy Nut Bar out enough so that Evie could bite off a piece. Evie's slow chewing appeased the vamp. He started to grin; a huge, unbalanced, wild-eyed grin full of jagged, drool-covered monster teeth.

"Now, that's better," he said. His eyes twinkled with a psychotic glimmer. "My good girl."

* * *

"Where is she?" Dean looked around frantically. "She was right here!"

Dean, Sam, Castiel, and Benny had hitched a ride from Memphis, Tennessee, to Missoula, Montana, in the back of an eighteen-wheeler carrying feminine hygiene products after finding a cop poking around their stolen rides. Luckily for them, the truck was bound for Spokane, Washington. The driver had pretended to make a fuss about picking up four hitchhikers, but Dean threw in $100 and that was that. The driver, 'You can just call me Winston, no last names,' a fifty-ish burly man with plenty of facial hair and flannel shirts, gave the men a flash light and four bottles for when 'nature calls,' and drove for twenty seven hours straight.

He had dropped them off in Missoula along the main road forty minutes ago. From there, they had found their way to the Alpha's manor. And, now, Dean was about to have a conniption.

"Sam! What'd they do with my baby?"

The Impala had been parked exactly where Dean was standing when they had beheaded the Alpha and rode the shockwave of death into Purgatory. Now, there was no sign of her. Not even tire tracks.

Dean grabbed both sides of his head like a man who had lost his marbles.

"Dean, it's OK," Sam soothed. "I'm sure they just stashed her somewhere. Breathe, dude."

Sam left Dean, hands on his knees, hunched over, practicing Lamaze breathing. "Benny, you got anything? What's next?"

"They took a car from here, drove about a night," Benny said, staring unfocused into the growing darkness. "Could have been six hours or twelve. Not sure."

"Which direction?" Sam asked.

"That way," Cas said, pointing south.

"OK," Sam said. "Just south?"

"Apparently, we'll know it when we get there," Benny said, meeting eyes with Cas.

"Alright. I guess we should hike back to town and boost a car," Sam said, sparing Dean a sympathetic glance.

"No," Cas said with certainty. "I'll teleport us."

"Cas, I know you're worried about her. We all are. But, I have a feeling we're gonna need your batteries at full charge," Dean said.

"Dean!" Cas protested.

"I know, Cas," Dean said, softer. He approached his dear friend and looked him in the eyes. "I know."

Cas squeezed his eyes shut and looked at the ground.

"We'll find her, chief," Benny said, patting Cas on the back. "Well, I think I saw a Cadillac in town. Let's pick your girl up in style."

* * *

In the summer time, temperatures in the arid Nevada desert could reach record highs of 115 to 120 degrees Fahrenheit. Even in autumn it wasn't unusual for the temperature to average 100 degrees. The heat in the desert was cruel and unforgiving; the desert itself was vast and oppressive. High heat could blur the edges of one's vision, extending the desert's already infinite vastness beyond the extent of perception. Water deprivation could alter perception, too. Trippy.

Evie stood in the sand, body and mind oppressed by the crushing heat. Her bare feet burned; sweat poured from every pore. Gazing into the distance, she fixed her eyes on her one true desire: a Mr. Pibb machine. It was hazy, but she could still make it out in all its purple glory. She took a step.

"Ow!" She looked down at her feet; they were red and sunburned. She looked back at the beautiful, delicious vending machine … and now, standing next to it, was a camel. He looked nice. Evie wanted to pet him. She took another step.

"Ow!" She looked down at her feet again. Steam rose from the ground beneath them, and she heard a faint sizzling sound. She looked back at the Mr. Pibb machine … and the camel, which now had Sam's face – a Sam camel, a Samel. He brought an ice-cold Mr. Pibb to his over-sized, mammalian lips, sipped it, and winked. "Mmmm. It goes down good!"

"Ow!" She opened her eyes and saw not her feet this time, but darkness. As her eyes adjusted to the absence of light, she could finally see that there wasn't a total absence of light. The blinding desert sun had been replaced by a stream of moonlight filtering in the cracked door through a window further away. The Mr. Pibb machine had been replaced by a dark form in the corner – Evie's vampire captor (or, caretaker, depending on who was asked). And, the Samel and his ice-cold Mr. Pibb: a generic-brand plastic water bottle. The vamp was sipping it loudly.

Evie's parched throat ached. She tried to crack wise or protest, to say anything, but all that came out was a hoarse squeak.

The vamp perked up at the sound. "Ah!" he exclaimed, moving closer to the bound, delirious victim leaning against pipes that inelegantly poked through the cinderblock wall with the chipping gray paint. "I see what you humans see in this drink. It's so smooth and clear! Water! Yes!" He turned to the bottle upside down, pouring the last few drops onto the floor. They splashed like gorgeous, sumptuous waves. Evie wanted to swim in them, to frolic and dive and splash and float, to submerge and live there like a mermaid. She licked her dry lips with a dry tongue; it didn't do much good.

"And, just like that … POOF!" the vamp bellowed. The sudden mood shift caused Evie to jump. "It's gone."

He tossed the bottle away carelessly and stood; he wobbled like a drunk man.

"Please," Evie whispered. "Water."

"There is no more water," the vamp said woozily. "I have failed you." He raised his head upward as if he were listening to someone and stared at the ceiling for a while. He stared so long that he lost his balance and stumbled into a lone chair, then, regaining some of his stability, he fixed his gaze upon Evie. "Yes. I can redeem myself," he said, as if in a trance, as he approached her.

He squatted directly in front of her, in the beam of the moonlight, revealing his horribly worn visage. This vampire looked ill, as if some black vampire death plague had ravaged him and now threatened to suck dry the last drops of whatever undead life he had left. His skin was too pale, his lips wrinkled, his eyes sunken and glassy, and his mind obviously deteriorating. Evie shrank from this grotesque mad thing. A blood-thirsty vamp she could handle, but this? What was this?

"I can quench your thirst, my good girl." The vamp bit the inside of his wrist; blood flowed from the wound. Immediately, Evie understood what was about to happen. "Drink from me," the vamp said.

Evie tried to pull away, but she was bound and weakened by the heat, hunger, and water deprivation. The vamp grasped the back of her neck and pressed her mouth against his dripping wrist. He smiled with a disturbing glee. "There, there," he soothed. He pulled his wrist back, and Evie spit his blood in his face. A fire ignited behind his glassy eyes. "YOU WILL DRINK!"

He found the empty water bottle and began to bleed into it. When that bottle was full, he found another and filled it. Then, another. Then, another. His body began to shake as he filled container after container with his blood. "You will drink," he said. "Drink. Drink. Yes."

* * *

"Ba da ba ba ba da ba ba," Benny sang out of tune. He simultaneously pantomimed the motions of playing the drums as Cream finished 'Crossroad' on the radio. "Ha ha! I guess new music ain't so bad."

"New?" Dean asked.

Cas lifted a hand and the radio dial clicked off. They all looked at the angel in the backseat.

"Sorry, brother," Benny said.

"Does anything look familiar to you?" Cas asked. Benny peered out the window, scanning the endless wall of trees along Route 93. He stared in silence for several minutes. Cas was about to say something when Benny rolled down the window; he sniffed at the air like a dog. "Fir."

"What?" Sam, Dean, and Cas all asked in unison.

Benny closed his eyes. "Fir trees."

"OK," Dean said expectantly.

Sam opened his window and took a whiff. The air smelled fresh and Christmassy. He looked at Dean and nodded his agreement.

Cas frowned at the trees, then at Benny. "Yes, there are trees. We're in a forest. What's your point?"

"My vision. They took her to a dark place; it smelled strongly of fir," Benny said.

"This whole place smells strongly of fir," Dean said.

"Hold on," Sam said, typing data into his laptop. "There are saw mills and abandoned lumber warehouses along this route."

"How many?" Dean asked.

"One active saw mill about fifty miles ahead, and about ten warehouses between here and three state lines," Sam said, disappointed.

"Three?" Dean asked.

"Someone didn't pay attention in geography class," Benny jested.

"Oh, like you know states," Dean said.

"I'll have you know I am a learned man," Benny said.

"Hey, guys! I think I got it," Sam said. "One of the ten warehouses was shut down in the seventies. I can't find any records of any inspections or any activity of any kind in decades."

"That's it," Benny said.

* * *

"No! No!" Evie shrieked, but the vamp advanced with bottles and jugs of his blood. Both of them were weakened by deprivation, her from water, him from blood, but he was still stronger. He held her mouth open and forced her to drink bottle after bottle of vampire blood. She tried desperately not to swallow, but after a while, she couldn't help it. Reflexes took over. The floodgates were opened and copper-flavored crimson waves flowed freely, coating her throat, then her esophagus and finally, her stomach.

When it was all over, she fell to the floor in a stupor. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, her pulse was racing, and her head was throbbing. The dim stream of moonlight suddenly resembled the blinding sunlight of her desert mirage. She could hear the faint heartbeat of the dying vampire lying before her, and maybe worse, she could smell him … and something smaller: a rodent, or a cat. One of them smelled like death, the other like dinner.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Whoa! This ain't no innocent little girl y'all are running with," Benny exclaimed. The vampire, the angel, and the brothers Winchester leaned on the doorframe to the dark warehouse office, gazing at six headless bodies with a mix of admiration, astonishment, and horror. The smell was atrocious. Flies swarmed the carcasses, feeding on any exposed skin or spilled blood.

Dean watched with growing dismay. "Hey, when flies drink vampire blood, do they turn?"

"I think we're OK, as long as there are no mosquitoes," Sam said. "Hey! Check this out." He crouched next to an antique letter opener. He picked it up gingerly by the handle and examined the blood-soaked blade. "You think this did all that?"

"No, I think one pissed off chick did all that," Dean said.

"She's a bad ass, that's for sure," Benny said, obviously impressed.

"That's my girl," Cas stated proudly. He stood and made a beeline for the parking lot. The others hurried to catch up and found him examining dirt outside. "Look! Tire tracks."

"He's right," Sam said, examining the tracks himself. "These were made recently. They seem to head south."

"Let's go," Cas said, heading for the Cadillac before he finished the first syllable.

"Wait, Cas!" Dean called.

"What for? We know where to go!" Cas said.

"Do we?" Dean retorted.

"Yes. South," Cas said.

"South. South to where?" Dean asked.

"He makes a good point, Cas," Benny said. "They could've headed to Nevada, Utah, or Wyoming from here. We need a little more to go on than just 'south.'"

"Then, what are we supposed to do? Just sit here?" Cas asked, clearly frustrated.

"Why don't you have another vision? You know, connect with her or whatever?" Dean suggested.

"They are very difficult to control," Cas said.

"Well, try!" Dean insisted.

Cas squeezed his eyes tightly shut and attempted to seek out a connection with Evie's soul. Two pictures crashed into his mind, flashing one after the other: Evie choking on blood, and then breaking through her ropes in one burst of inhuman energy. Cas' knees fell from under him. He pushed himself onto all fours. "We have to hurry! She's in trouble."

"OK, how, Cas? What do we do?" Sam asked.

Cas plopped down on his bottom. He placed his hands in his lap and looked around the dirt parking lot helplessly. "I don't know."

"OK, we start driving south," Dean said, once again putting on the leader hat. "One of you'll see something that leads us to her."

"Benny, this may be stupid, but can you, like, mind meld or something with those dead vamps?" Sam asked.

"Great idea, Mr. Spock," Dean said sardonically.

"Nah, nah, but … I wonder …" Benny said. He paused, thinking. "I may have an idea."

"Don't hurt yourself," Dean quipped.

They followed Benny back inside. "So, are you really gonna do a mind meld?" Dean asked, intrigued.

"I don't know what that is," Benny said. "But …" he said, picking up the letter opener. "I can do this."

Benny licked the sharp end of the blade, cleaning every drop of blood from it.

"Gross," Dean said.

"That is pretty gross," Sam agreed.

Benny closed his eyes. Images flowed across the backs of his eyelids like a movie reel—images seen by every vampire whose blood coated that letter opener. He saw the massacre from the perspective of each of the six vampires Evie beheaded, as well as the seventh that she didn't. Benny opened his eyes; they almost didn't look like his. He was soaked in sweat and didn't appear to be breathing.

"Benny?" Sam called.

"Hey, man! You OK?" Dean asked.

"They went south, to Nevada, on Route 93," Benny heaved.

* * *

_Jackpot 20_

"Jackpot!" Cas exclaimed. He sat forward, eyes wide, like a schoolboy.

"Cas, we're not here to play blackjack," Dean said.

"No, Jackpot!" Images flashed in Cas' mind: that sign, a turn onto a backroad, a dashboard clock that read 5:45, the old gas station.

"She's there! Ten miles past the town of Jackpot, take a left," he said urgently.

"Where?" Dean asked, flooring the gas pedal.

"I'll tell you when we get there," Cas said.

About ten miles past the outskirts of Jackpot, Nevada, the Impala speedily approached a dirt road with no signs. It was barely even a road; it could easily be missed unless someone knew where they were going.

"There!" Cas yelled.

Dean jerked the wheel hard. The tires squealed and the engine groaned, but Dean's baby deftly made the near right-angle turn. Dean maintained eighty miles per hour for five miles.

"That's it! Up ahead," Cas said, pointing to the tiny, two-pump gas station. The car came to a screeching halt. Dean threw the car in park, but didn't bother turning off the ignition. The four men rushed the building, all dangerous and armed: two with guns, one with monstrous strength, and one with divine powers – the last possessing the most dangerous weapon of all: wrath.

Dean kicked in the front door, stirring up dust that looked like it had been there for decades. They found themselves in a shoebox of a convenience store: not very convenient, but probably the best the sticks of northern Nevada had to offer. Sam and Dean coughed into their sleeves. It was dusty, dirty, and dark, although there was one beam of moonlight creeping in from the one window not totally boarded up.

"Dean," Sam whispered. He held up a yellowed newspaper in the moonlight. The date read 'February 14, 1959.'

"That explains the stale air," Benny whispered.

"You should look at this," Cas said somberly from a room behind the service counter.

Dean looked at Cas, then behind them at the blank space where Cas had been, then back at where Cas was now, confused. "I teleported in before you. Just come look."

"What is it?" Sam asked. "Oh!" He exclaimed as they rounded the corner and saw what had dampened Cas' optimistic mood.

Cas illuminated the room with a flashlight, bringing to light the oddness of the events that had likely taken place here and bringing into question exactly what he had seen during his last vision. It appeared that a man had had his head shoved straight through a cinderblock wall; he was stuck in a standing position, his head perfectly centered inside a gray rectangle.

"Looks like he's a chop off the old block head!" Dean delivered with a smile, then stood back, waiting to bask in the comedy glory. This was a good one. He got an ashamed grin from Sam, a 'got caught messing around in church' look from Benny, and absolutely nothing from Cas.

"Let's pull him out and see who it is," Sam said.

"Alright," Dean sighed. "Benny, you've got face. You know, in case he's one of yours."

"Uh," Benny grunted.

Each man took a place on the side of the block head.

"One, two, three …" Dean counted down.

They all looked at each other and at block head, who was still lodged in the wall. "Did you pull?" Benny asked.

"Did I pull? Yes, I pulled!" Dean said. "Sam, did you pull?"

"Yeah! Cas?"

Cas was examining various pools and smudges of blood on the floor.

"Cas! You were supposed to pull on three!" Sam said.

Cas stood without saying a word, grabbed block head from behind by both arms, and pulled effortlessly. The man dropped to the floor, taking most of his head with his body, but some of it remained in the wall, dripping sloppily from the hole, and some of it literally melted to the floor. Everyone stared, revolted, as block head's ear plopped wetly into the mess of blood, brains, and skin on the floor.

"I'm glad I haven't eaten recently," Dean said, dry heaving a little.

Covering his mouth with the back of his hand, Sam said, "Who … or what could have done this?"

"Probably another one of these," Benny said, flipping the body over, pulling back the lip, and revealing vampire teeth.

"Hey, you OK around all this blood?" Dean asked Benny.

"Yeah, sure. But, still, I'm gonna go get some air," Benny said quietly as he stood and walked outside.

Cas stood in stunned silence. He thought he knew what had happened to Evie … mostly. The revelation that this man shoved into the wall was a vampire filled in the missing pieces of the puzzle, and the picture it formed wasn't pretty.

"Hey, look at this," Dean said. He was crouched near pipes that jutted clumsily from the ugly, painted cinderblock wall. Sam crouched next to his brother; they both examined something on the ground.

"Cas, come see this," Dean said, carefully scrutinizing every inch of the thick rope. It was just the right length for tying someone's hands, exactly the amount Dean would use. The weird part was the rope was busted in two places; it wasn't sliced as if with a knife but more like unraveled as if it had been pulled apart.

"The rope is half an inch in diameter, natural fibers. It would take over two thousand pounds of pressure to break it like this," Sam said learnedly.

Dean shot him a raised-eyebrow look.

"Remember that time when I didn't have a soul and didn't sleep … for a year?" Sam asked, sarcastically. "I studied stuff."

"You would," Dean said. "Cas, come see this."

"I know what it is, Dean," Cas replied, "and I know who broke it. We have to find her. Now!"

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

Evie awoke with a start. She looked around, not sure of where she was. It looked like a cheap motel room: same, old story. The blinds were drawn and the curtains shut, but it seemed to be late in the day.

* * *

_Thud. Thud._

"_Hey, lady!"_ a man's voice called from outside. _"You only paid for one night. If you want to stay another night, it'll be thirty bucks."_

She propped herself up on her elbow, intending to reach for the motel's cardboard advertisement on the bedside table, but something felt strange. The bed felt sticky. It was dark; all she could see was a dark spot—a really big dark spot—but she knew immediately what it was: blood. The bed was covered, she was covered. What had happened?

"_Come on, lady! You got one minute before I'm coming in, decent or not."_

She reached over and grabbed that advertisement: White Pine Motel. Her bloody left thumb print covered the 'W.' Replacing it on the table, she knocked a man's wallet onto the floor.

_Thud. Thud._

"_Alright, lady, that's it! I'm getting my key!"_

Evie dug through the wallet with haste and turned up five twenty dollar bills. Breathing a quick sigh of relief, she pulled out forty dollars with the tiniest tip of her fingernails to avoid staining the bills with blood. "Coming!" Evie called. "I'm coming!"

She crossed to the door and slid the bills under. "For tonight. Keep the change."

"_Yes, ma'am,"_ the man's voice said. _"Please remember that checkout time is eleven AM."_

Evie turned away from the door and flipped on the nearest lamp. The lamp did what it could, but even pure light can only do so much with darkness. The darkness of the room and an inarticulate darkness of spirit overtook her; she fell to her knees and slumped against the wall, helpless and utterly alone.

Covering her eyes with her hands, she began to contemplate all the bad things she had ever done, all the wrongs she had ever committed. Copious amounts of blood spread across the room tinted everything a deep claret. Blood was splattered on the curtains, the mirror, the door, and tables; it was pooled and sticky in the bed, and it soaked through the carpet in three places.

The room may have been tinted shades of red, but all she could see was gray, as if storms loomed over her. She couldn't remember how she had gotten to the White Pine Motel or anything that had happened since the vampire made her drink blood at the gas station, but she had a really bad feeling.

* * *

"There's no way Evie did that," Dean said. "You heard Benny. It had to be another vampire or a … a car."

Hanging his head like a beaten dog, Cas said, "I wish it wasn't her. I would start praying again to make it so."

"Cas, Evie's not a vampire!" Dean yelled.

"Dean." Benny appeared in the doorway, wiping blood from his mouth. "I don't want to be a Negative Nancy—I know my thirst is already bringing down the mood—but I found about twenty of these tossed out back." Benny handed Dean an empty, plastic water bottle; the inside was coated with tacky blood.

"What does this mean?" Sam asked.

"She was forced to drink his blood," Cas stated. "A lot of it."

"Is that what you saw back at the warehouse?" Dean asked, panicked.

Cas opened his mouth to speak, but no words were good enough. Dean lunged at Cas, grabbing the lapels of his coat. "Did you see that in your vision? Why didn't you say something?!"

"Dean! It wouldn't have mattered," Sam insisted, pulling his brother off Cas.

"What do you mean 'it wouldn't have mattered'?" Dean hissed.

"We couldn't have gotten to her any faster. We couldn't have stopped it," Sam said.

"If she has turned …" Benny said.

"No, we can reverse it," Dean said.

"… If she hasn't fed," Sam interjected.

"She hasn't," Dean said shortly.

"Oh, she has," Benny said. Fielding the 'Go to Hell' looks, he amended, "Speaking from experience."

"I didn't feed," Dean said, jaw set in stone. Benny raised an eyebrow.

"Long story," Dean said. "It won't be a picnic getting these ingredients, but we've got most important and hardest to come by right in there … if you didn't drink it all." Dean cast a judgmental glare Benny's way.

"No, I didn't drain him," Benny answered, slightly offended.

"Dean, write down what we need. I'll get it," Cas said.

"No, Cas …" Dean argued.

"Dean!" Cas roared. "I have heard enough about my batteries. I will do whatever it takes to save her—_whatever_ it takes."

Dean walked inside and found a piece of paper and a pencil behind the counter. He jotted down a list of rare items and handed it to Cas, who glanced at it absently and disappeared.

"Hey, since when do vampires feed on their own?" Sam asked.

"Desperate times," Benny said. "I gotta drink something or …"

"Or what?" Dean asked.

"I start seeing things, hearing things …" Benny cocked his head, thinking. "I reckon if a vampire went long enough without a taste, he might lose his mind."

"You think that's what happened here?" Sam asked.

"Maybe," Benny replied. "You don't need that much blood to turn a human."

"So this vampire takes Evie away from the safe house, goes crazy _not_ drinking blood, then nearly drains himself dry so he can force feed her a gallon of his blood? Why?" Dean asked.

"Crazy begets crazy," Benny said.

"We know a person can turn from just a drop. What would happen to someone who drank that much vamp blood?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"I don't know, but it can't be good," Benny said heavily.

* * *

Sam and Dean perused the four dust-crusted shelves in the petite gas station. Relics of the past sat on powdery thrones of honor on the top shelves and hid in embarrassment in the darkness of the bottom shelves. "You think baby can drink this?" Dean asked, reading the back of a metal can of Rocket motor oil.

Cas appeared before Sam could answer, near the counter with five glass bottles filled with a variety of colored liquids and crushed substances and one bunch of herbs tied together with twine. Sam hurried over and added a large water bottle one-fourth full of the dead vamp's blood to the exotic spread.

Leaving behind the motor oil, which Dean fantasized would turn his Impala into a genuine flying, sound-barrier breaking rocket (hence the name), Dean said, "OK, let's brew us a cure."

As Sam combined the ingredients to the blood in drips and pinches, hoping his measurements were at least in the ballpark, Dean gently pulled Cas aside. "Any leads on Evie?"

"If you're asking if I've had another vision, no," Cas answered sourly.

"You always showed up in her dreams. Maybe you should go to sleep," Dean suggested.

"I don't sleep," Cas retorted.

"Right," Dean said. "Well, then meditate or something. We've got to find her quick, before she feeds."

Cas nodded and walked outside. The sun was about to rise over the horizon. Castiel, of course, had never experienced the wonder of sunrises and sunsets as humans did: worshipping the sun as a capricious deity, whose will was responsible for all manner of good and evil; believing in a geocentric universe in which all astral bodies, including the sun, rotated around the Earth; being to an extent dependent on the sun's light and warmth for life. Even modern humans – for all their scientific knowledge of the sun, a star whose mass holds nine planets in its orbit, a star that will eventually burn out and extinguish all life on Earth, a star that is small in comparison to the millions of stars viewed by human technology – still see something in the sun that Castiel had never seen.

He walked to the desolate road and stood like the statue he had always been: stoic, silent, still. For millennia he had been a statue, tasked to watch the Earth and the creatures his Father had placed on it. He didn't even begin to understand these creatures until he met Dean. This crude, wild, hopeless boy had helped him see what his Father saw in humans. Evie had taken that a step further: she had ignited the desire inside him to be part of it, part of humanity. He had learned many things when he had lost his grace and became human, but then he got his wings back, and, again, he was an outsider: walking with humans, but not quite belonging.

It was as if he had sat in front of a TV for two thousand years watching the static between channels. Then, he met Dean, who introduced him to basic cable. And, then, Evie came along and brought streaming HD with her. She had brightened Cas' world, just as the sun was now brightening this Nevada highway. He stared straight into the rising sun, never blinking, and saw the sun for the first time … the way humans saw it: Beautiful, haunting, hopeful.

Suddenly, a blot of red appeared in the tree line across the highway. Cas blinked, but it was still there. He closed his eyes for longer and reopened them. The spot was bigger now, and it seemed to be growing. The garnet spot covered the sun, and a shadow fell on Cas. He tried to run, but his feet were planted to the ground … like a statue.

The red gloom overtook Cas, and he fell backward into the dirt.

* * *

"How long should we leave him out there?" Sam asked.

"Ah, let him do his thing. Maybe this is his idea of meditation," Dean said. "Benny, it's getting light out. You don't want to get a tan."

"Yeah, I got it," Benny said, pulling a tube of SPF 100 sunscreen from his pocket.

"Whoa, Cas!" Sam called and ran outside. Dean followed without thinking. They reached Cas quickly. He lay splayed out in the dirt, facing the sky, eyes open.

"Is he breathing?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam answered. He waved his hand back and forth over Cas' eyes. "Nothing."

Jogging up to the boys, Benny asked, "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know. He looks like he's in a coma or something," Dean said.

"Cas!" Sam yelled. He reared back and slapped Cas' cheek.

"Dude!" Dean said.

"It worked last time," Sam mumbled.

"Well, we can't just play doctor to an angel on the side of the road," Benny said. "Let's get him somewhere comfortable."

* * *

"How is he?" Sam asked, walking swiftly around the Impala.

"Same," Dean answered shortly.

Sam crossed the small sidewalk and unlocked the door to Room 3 while Dean opened the backdoor of the car.

Sam and Dean nodded in wordless agreement. Dean pulled Cas' outstretched form off the backseat by his armpits. Benny grabbed Cas' legs at the perfect time. Sam was right behind to close the door. Dean and Benny carried the apparently unconscious angel into the room and laid him on the bed.

"OK, hopefully no one saw us," Dean said. He stared at Cas. He was worried. He had no clue what to do for Cas, and Dean Winchester didn't like feeling clueless.

Benny lifted Cas' wrist and let go mid-air; Cas' limp arm fell back to the bed. "Well, he's not catatonic: eyes don't follow you," he said, moving his finger in front of Cas' eyes, "and his muscles are limp." Benny demonstrated this by again lifting Cas' wrist and letting gravity take it back to the bed. "And, he ain't comatose. Eyes are open. … I had some medical training. Have to when you're on a ship."

"When was that: 1800?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"No, he's right, Dean," Sam interjected. "I've never seen anything like this."

"Yeah, so what do we do about it?!" Dean snapped. He was pacing now.

"I don't know if there's anything we can do," Sam said.

Dean bit his tongue. He wanted to put a gun in someone's face and force them to fix Cas, but this time there was no one to shoot, no one to torture, no one to blame. There was nothing to do but sit and wait and wonder what was going on inside Cas' head.

* * *

Cas opened his eyes and swiftly closed them again. The red spot was gone, and the world wasn't dark anymore; in fact, it was far too bright, too satiated, and way too intense. It was like being forced to stare at the sun through dilated pupils. Even with his eyelids gripped tightly shut, the light still flooded through.

He could still hear in his blinded state: birds chirping very loudly, his staggered footsteps shuffling unevenly, then his knees hitting the pavement after he stumbled over a rock. He caught himself with outstretched hands he could barely see. Then, he heard something else: a low rumble and a grinding, growing louder. Suddenly, the rumble became a roar. Then, the roar became a bellow. He turned and saw an enormous, charging mass speeding toward him, horn blaring threateningly, and he realized what it was and where he was: it was a logging truck, and he was on all fours in the road. He rolled to his right, narrowly avoiding being splattered all over a desolate road in the middle of a forest.

Catching his breath he slowly sat up and looked down at his wounded hands and forearms. As his eyes adjusted and the light became more bearable, two thoughts crossed his mind: first, "What am I wearing?" and, second, "These aren't mine." Cas looked past his unexpectedly feminine hands and noticed he was wearing blue jeans and motorcycle boots. He looked down at his chest and saw something jarring: breasts. Great breasts.

Cas stood and looked around. He had no idea where he was … or who he was in. Maybe when the red spot knocked him unconscious, it also knocked him out of his vessel. Apparently, he had found another.

He had to get back to the boys and continue searching for Evie. He closed his eyes tightly and concentrated, but nothing happened. He still stood on the side of a desolate road in the middle of a forest. He tried again, and again nothing. Teleporting apparently wasn't an option, but he was certain he could hitch a ride with breasts like these. He started walking, thumb out as he knew was the human sign for "Please, give me a ride."

His vision had adjusted, but he still had to squint to bear the sharp quality of the sunlight. He could hear a car approaching. Turning, he expected it to be rolling near, but there was nothing but asphalt and trees. He could hear the car, which was much further away than he thought, chirping birds (millions, it seemed), blowing wind, and something fainter and more rhythmic. It sounded like a drumming. One big drum played with sticks and thousands of tiny flittering ones played with fast fingers.

Finally, the car rounded the curve that brought it into his field of vision. It rolled to a stop next to him and his bodacious cans, as he had predicted. He got in and latched his seat belt. "Thank you," he said, looking over at the driver, a middle-aged man wearing a baseball cap, an eager grin, and a bulging neck. At first, Cas wondered if he might be ill, then the man's jugular vein turned bright red through his skin and began to pulsate rhythmically. The man started to speak, but Cas couldn't hear a word he said. The drumming noise—blood pulsing through the man's veins, Cas now realized—was all he could hear aside from the excited beating of his own heart. His pulse was rapid, his breathing shallow. His teeth hurt. Something was happening in his mouth.

He turned away from the man, whose mouth was still moving like a silent picture star, and looked at his vessel in the side mirror. He saw a mouth full of vampire teeth in a face he knew so well: Evie.

A touch on his shoulder broke the trance; the driver was asking, "Are you OK, Miss?"

"Don't touch me!" Cas yelled. He heard Evie's voice.

The man tried to touch him again, but, this time, when Cas tried to pull away, he felt a loss of control. He lunged at the man, fangs bared. He felt himself push the man violently against the driver door, although he tried with all his will to stop. He saw himself eyeing the pulsing vein in the man's neck, lusting after it, wanting it more than anything. Then, he saw himself open the passenger door and fall weakly out of the car and onto the ground. The car sped away.

What the hell was going on here?

* * *

It didn't take Cas too long—but, still, maybe longer than it should have—to realize that he wasn't in a new vessel. In fact, he wasn't anywhere. He wasn't in control of Evie's body; he was just watching. This was the most lucid vision of Evie he had had yet: a detailed play by play of every move she made after she turned. He had hoped and prayed that she hadn't turned, that his vision had been wrong or she had been able to fight it.

He now saw that his prayers had not been answered: She had turned. Worse than that, she had fed, and even worse than that, he had to watch through her eyes as she did it. The overwhelming dread was the worst of it all, as he watched it all play out, not knowing how Evie's story would end.

Cas' feelings toward God had shifted drastically over his existence. He began as a devout soldier, never questioning, never wavering. Then, the Winchesters entered his life, and with them the questions. He grew doubtful and rebellious, then became pious again. Then, thinking he was righteous, he became misguided and arrogant. Where was this Father he had served for millennia? Why wasn't he here to lead? Through the apocalypse, a Heavenly civil war, and near damnation on Earth time and time again, God still would not return. Eventually, Cas grew tired. Then, a human woman fired an arrow at a vampire and restored his faith. She and his faith were now bloody and on the run. If Castiel had ever had a reason to hate God, this was it.

* * *

For seven hours Sam and Dean took turns checking on Cas, watching reruns of 'Dr. Sexy, MD,' or Animal Planet and driving back to the gas station to search for any clue as to where Evie had gone. Benny stayed in the room, mostly out of necessity. The midday Nevada sun was unforgiving; it wouldn't kill him, but it was certainly less than comfortable. He hated to admit that he was starting to get into to this 'Dr. Sexy' show. He tried to play it cool and pretend he was sleeping, but the truth was he could barely keep his eyes off the TV. Dean, on the other hand, didn't bother hiding his man crush.

Sam entered excitedly, scaring both captive viewers. "I think I found something!"

"What took you so long?" Dean asked, standing. Sam started to explain, then he noticed both Dean's and Benny's eyes diverted to watch Dr. Piccolo slap Dr. Sexy. He shut off the TV and regained their full attention.

"I drove a bit further south, and I found a cashier at a truck stop who says he saw a woman matching Evie's description hitch a ride from a trucker," Sam said.

"Matching Evie's description? You sure it's her?" Benny asked.

"Curly, brown hair. Brown eyes. Thin. Also described her as 'hot' and said 'she looked like she could kick my ass.' His words," Sam said.

"That's her. Where was she headed?" Dean asked.

"South, with a trucker who routinely drives Route 93 between Jackpot and Las Vegas. I got a first name: Hal," Sam said.

"There can't be many stops between here and Vegas. I mean, there's nothing but desert," Dean said.

"Let's see," Sam said, opening his laptop. He pulled up a map of Nevada. "Yeah, there are only three towns between Jackpot and Vegas on Route 93. The largest is Ely. …"

At that moment Cas sat bolt upright and inhaled deeply as if it were his first breath in years.

"Whoa!" Dean yelped, running to the bed. "Hey!"

"Angels sure do know how to make an entrance," Benny quipped.

"Hey, Cas! How you feeling?" Sam asked.

"Ely. White Pines Motel. Let's go," Cas said, holding out his hands and closing his eyes, preparing to teleport. He succeeding only in making himself dizzy.

"Take it easy, Cas. We'll get there the old-fashioned way," Sam said, gathering their things.

"You can explain your seven-hour coma in the car," Dean said.

* * *

Dean violently struck the steering wheel repeatedly.

"Dean, stop! That's not helping," Sam said.

"I didn't want to believe it," Cas said, head hanging, eyes defeated.

"Well, then don't!" Dean yelled. "Maybe you saw it wrong!"

"Dean, I didn't see it wro—"

"Guys!" Sam refereed.

"Hey, guys, it's not a death sentence. I'm living, well, undead proof of that, right?" Benny suggested.

"Is that supposed to be comforting?" Cas asked.

"Look, from what I understand, she's one tough cookie," Benny said. "She'll be alright."

After five minutes of teeth-gritting silence, Dean swung the car into a spot at the White Pines Motel, where police and forensic analysts swarmed like ants. Cas had told them the entire story as he had witnessed it through Evie's eyes: her journey from the side of the bright, desolate road to room 6 at the White Pines Motel.

She had gained enough control of herself to hitch a ride south on a truck hauling chickens. She requested to ride in the back, hoping to resist ripping out the throat of the driver. At the beginning of her ride, there had been twenty three chickens in the truck. By the time the driver had stopped to check on the lack of clucking in the back, there had been zero chickens. He pulled a shotgun on Evie, and she was no longer able to resist ripping out his throat.

After that, her memory had become foggy for several hours. The only thing Cas could determine for certain was that Evie, with a clear head and her own human blood in her veins, awoke in a pool of blood in room 6 of the White Pines Motel in Ely. He prayed she was no longer here.

"Cas!" Dean called. He had been trying to get Cas' attention. "Can you handle this?"

He nodded.

"Get your badge," Dean said. "Benny, why don't you wait in the car?"

"Aw, no badge for the vampire?" Benny asked, feigning hurt.

"Just stay cool," Dean said, closing the door.

He, Sam, and Castiel approached the three-ring circus of sheriff's deputies and lab geeks and ducked under the yellow tape unnoticed. At the open doorway, though, they stopped abruptly, all flabbergasted. It seemed that every surface – the floor, walls, bed, table, chair, television, doorknobs, and even the ceiling – had at least a touch of blood on it.

"Hey, you folks can't be here." A photographer had noticed them staring.

Instinctively, Sam and Dean flashed their badges, but they never took their eyes off the blood. Cas brushed past the boys, the startled photographer, and the deputy who had moved in to check their credentials.

"Whoa, hold it," the deputy said. "You have to wear those plastic booty things in there, so you don't track footprints in … come on, you guys know this." The deputy sighed loudly as Cas paced the room. "What is he doing?"

Walking quickly out and past the boys, Cas said, "She's not here." He left a trail of bloody footprints and speechless men in his wake.

* * *

"Where would she go?" Sam asked.

"I don't know!" Cas' voice roared from the back seat.

"She's alright," Benny said.

"We don't know that!" Dean said.

"We know she's got her wits about her now," Benny replied. "So, she's probably laying low."

"If she's got her wits, then why hasn't she tried to contact us?" Dean asked.

"You know, after my first time, I felt terrible. More than terrible, it was like an ache, like I was morning the loss of my humanity, my soul." Benny continued to philosophize. "I wanted to be alone. I turned my back on those closest to me so they wouldn't see what I had become."

"Are you saying that she doesn't want us to find her?" Cas asked in frustration.

"I'm just saying that she may be looking for comfort in unusual places," Benny said.

"Just say what you mean, Benny," Sam said.

"How many churches are there in Ely?" Cas asked.

Tapping on his keyboard, Sam came up with a number: "Seven. Baptist, Catholic, Lutheran, Episcopal, Assembly of God, Latter-day Saints …"

"You think she's penitent," Benny said.

"She would choose to bare the weight of her actions and the consequences alone. It would become heavy," Cas said.

"I, too, turned to church," Benny said. "I wasn't exactly welcomed with open arms, but I didn't have an angel in my pants, you know what I'm saying."

Cas calmly reached across the seat and yanked the smart-mouthed vampire from his comfortable spot. Before Dean, who hadn't yet noticed anything was amiss, or Sam, who had, could say a word, Cas shoved Benny through the passenger side window. Twinkling glass spilled over the rapidly speeding highway, creating a beautiful effect on many levels, musically, visually, and metaphorically.

Dean tried to drive as straight as possible, but he still slowed slightly when he saw his friend hanging over the rapidly moving asphalt by his throat.

"That is the last wise-crack you will make on that topic," Cas said calmly.

"OK, OK! Whatever you say, brother," Benny yelled from his precarious position.

"Drive us by the closest church," Cas told Sam, still holding Benny with a steady arm. "I'll feel her if she's near."

* * *

"Excuse me, young lady. I don't mean to interrupt your prayer, but you were here when I came in two hours ago, and two hours before that, in the same exact spot," the priest said, indicated Evie's kneeling position. "Have you moved in the last four hours? Trust someone who knows," the priest said, showing off his cane, "moving does the body good."

"And, I've been told prayer does the soul good," Evie said. She continued to stare aimlessly toward the altar as the priest eyed her carefully and thoughtfully.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he said, finally. "Water? Food? A doctor? Counselor?"

"No," she replied in a despondent whisper.

"Confession?"

Evie considered it, but what good would it do? "I don't there's any forgiving what I've done, Father."

"If you repent God will forgive," the priest said.

Evie finally turned her gaze to the priest sitting in the pew next to her. He had a wise face. He didn't look like the naïve kind of man who had joined the priesthood straight from the Boy Scouts. Rather, he looked like the kind who had joined later in life, after he had seen some crap.

"I have it on good authority that God doesn't care anymore," Evie said.

Without batting an eye the priest said, "Oh, my child. Something terrible must have happened for you to believe that." He continued to gaze at her with true sympathy until tears fell from her eyes. "May I pray with you?" he asked.

Evie nodded.

The priest set his cane aside, and Evie helped him plant down the kneeler. He seemed to have much difficulty with his joints. Evie arranged everything for him, then offered a hand to assist him into the kneeling position. He accepted graciously, holding her hand with his left and the back of the pew with his right. He slowly lowered his knees down to the poorly cushioned kneeler; in this position he would show humility before God in more ways than one: He would not be equal to God, and when finished with prayer, he would not be able to stand again without God's help.

Of course, he hid all this as best he could from the troubled young woman. Instead, he made it into the kneeling position as gracefully as humanly possible, thanked her for her help, and then immediately asked for her hand in prayer, ignoring his pain. This elderly priest, a true believer, and this young hunter, who had seen so many of the things this man had devoted his life to, prayed the rosary together in a small rectory in Ely, Nevada. It may not have been God. It may not have ben forgiveness, but it was a start.

* * *

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost," said the priest, pantomiming the sign of the cross over Evie. "Amen."

She helped the old man into his seat with considerable effort. Once seated, he took a moment to catch his breath. "My name is Father McNulty, by the way."

"Evie. Evelyn."

"Evelyn, you said earlier that you don't believe God cares anymore," Father McNulty started thoughtfully.

"If God did care, He wouldn't allow …" Evie trailed off.

"He wouldn't allow evil?" Father McNulty asked. "Evil is the devil's work, my child."

"Well, not _the_ devil. Just an arrogant, little piss-ant wannabe," Evie said with contempt. "Sorry, Father."

Father McNulty was truly confused by her statement. He had heard a lot of ranting and raving about God and angels, the devil and demons, but "piss-ant wannabe" was a first.

"Lucifer is locked away in cage, and the guy who took his place? Maybe even worse. Little man syndrome," Evie stated.

"The story of Lucifer being locked away is not a common one. You must be a scholar," Father McNulty said. "But, the story of a second Satan is a new one on me."

"Even more dramatic than Lucifer's fall from grace. Lucifer was locked away for millennia. You know that part," Evie said. "But, I bet you didn't hear the part where he was released and walked the Earth about six years ago. Yeah, I know! The apocalypse was diverted by my ex, his stubborn brother, my new boyfriend (the angel, who rebelled against Heaven, by the way), and a surly, old man I wish I could have had a drink with."

"Evelyn, I enjoy a good story as much as the next man, but you're bordering on blasphemy," the priest said seriously.

"I can understand your skepticism, Father," she said. "I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't seen everything I've seen."

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"I don't know," Evie said. "It feels good to say it out loud." She stood. "Well, thank you, Father. I feel much better. I should get going."

Evie turned to leave and noticed a nun squarely blocking the only exit to the small chapel. She hadn't noticed the woman before, and her sudden presence set off alarms in Evie's head.

"Oh, Sister Agnes, where have you been? I was worried about you," Father McNulty said, slowly pulling himself to a standing position.

"I have to confess a sin, Father," the nun began in a familiar cadence. Evie tensed.

"Sister, maybe this is not the time," the priest said.

"This is the perfect time," she continued. "I must confess envy."

"Envy?"

"Yes," Sister Agnes said. "I am envious of someone: that 'arrogant, little piss-ant wannabe.'" The nun's eyes flashed red, and the door slammed shut. "I want to hear more about him."

Father McNulty made the sign of the cross. "My God," he said, aghast.

"No, but I'll give you two more guesses," Crowley said through Sister Agnes. "Come now, Evie. Aren't you going to introduce me to your new friend?"

"What are you doing here?" Evie asked.

"Looking for you, of course," Crowley replied.

"Why? You've got the tablet. You don't need me _or_ Cas," Evie said with fire in her eyes.

"Mmm. No, and no," Crowley said.

"You don't have the tablet?" Evie asked.

"Isn't that what I just said? Even if I did have it, why would you think I don't need you, darling? My most perfect creation of all," Crowley said proudly. "Well, maybe not perfect, but certainly better than the others."

The door violently burst open before Evie could question what Crowley meant by 'others.' In the doorway stood Castiel, an unflinching, unstoppable force – breath-taking. Literally. Both Father McNulty and Evie lost their breath for a moment: for the priest, it was awe, but for the lover, it was excitement.

"You putrid piece of …" Crowley began to charge Cas as he threw insults, breaking the spell of the moment. Evie took the opportunity to nimbly jump the pew, grab the nun and force her face into the stoup of holy water near the door. Crowley screamed in pain and surprise; steam rose from the nun's face. Cas and Evie pulled the nun from the water and held her body as red smoke poured from her mouth and fled through the open door like a freight train, nearly knocking a running Dean and Sam off their feet.

"What the hell was he doing here?" Dean asked.

"Good to see you, too, Dean," Evie said. "Let's get them out of here."

As Sam swept Sister Agnes into his arms and headed for the car, Evie suppressed her urge to hug Cas and never let go and grabbed a stunned Father McNulty by the arm. "I need your help, Cas. He can't move very well."

"Here," Cas said, placing his fingers on the priest's forehead. Father McNulty looked around, again flabbergasted.

"My arthritis," he managed.

"Remember that angel I told you about?" Evie asked. "Come on. We need to go. Now."

They started to jog to the parking lot, but when Evie noticed Benny, she slowed to a stop.

"Hey! Let's go!" Dean called.

"You know what he is?" Evie asked. The hatred glimmered in her eyes.

"Yes, long story. We can explain when we're far away from Crowley," Dean said.

They piled into the Impala: Dean in the driver seat, Sam in the passenger seat with Sister Agnes in his lap, Benny in the back next to the broken window, Father McNulty in the middle, and lastly, Evie in Castiel's lap. She clung to Cas but glared at Benny; unable to control her hatred, distrust, and fear, she couldn't take her eyes off him.

"We're not all monsters, darling," Benny said solemnly.

The sound of Benny's voice seemed to snap Father McNulty back to reality. He peered around the car uncertainly, finally settling his gaze on Evie. "Are you a monster?"

Cas tightened his protective wrapped grip on his lady. "Father, you're in shock."

"It said she was its most perfect creation," Father McNulty said. "That thing that was in Sister Agnes. It said it created her."

"That _thing _was the monster," Cas said.

Evie's train of thought, her foray into guilt and self-hatred, wondering if she really was evil, came to a screeching halt as she picked out the vital piece of Crowley's words. "He said I was better than the others. He gave the potion to others."

* * *

While Sam, Dean, and Benny waited in the Impala, Evie and Cas helped a speechless Father McNulty and a barely awake Sister Agnes check into a motel in Hinckley, Utah. Cas paid for their room, and Evie wrote a number on a piece of stationery. She handed it to Father McNulty.

"This is my number. If you need anything … _anything_, Father, just ask," Evie said.

He stared at the numbers and, without looking up, said, "I'm sorry I called you a monster."

"I know how it as at first," Evie said, shaking it off. "And, my first wasn't the King of Hell. That's a lot to deal with." She hugged the priest. "Take care of yourself. You and Sister Agnes, you get as far away from Nevada as you can, and don't look back. Ever."

He nodded, and she knew she didn't need to explain the direness of the situation any further. She and Cas returned to the car, arms bound tightly around each other.

"I feel bad about leaving them alone," Evie said.

"They'll be alright," Cas assured her. "They're not the ones Crowley's after."

She sighed deeply as Cas opened the door for her. "OK, so Crowley's after us … me. Why?"

"That's the million dollar question, darling," Benny said.

"Dean, now that we've dropped off the cargo, can you please explain why I'm sitting next to a vampire and not chopping his head off?" Evie asked through pursed lips.

"Uh … it's a long story," Dean started.

"I'm listening," Evie said.

"OK," Dean said. "Just keep your hands off any sharp objects until I'm done."

"You've got ten minutes before his head flies out that broken window," she said.

Not liking the idea of a broken window or his buddy's head flying out said window, Dean started talking. He didn't realize what was going to come out until it was done. He told the entire saga of Benny and Dean: Meeting in Purgatory (the first time), their escape from Purgatory, Benny letting Dean kill him in order to escort Sam and Bobby safely to the portal so Bobby's soul could enter Heaven, meeting Benny again in Purgatory, getting him out (again), and Benny helping find Evie. Dean checked his watch: it had been sixteen minutes since he started the tale. So far, no heads were rolling down the highway.

Evie grit her teeth and looked at Benny. Dean tensed at the wheel; he was sure she was going to reach for the knife he knew she kept in her boot, but instead, she inhaled deeply. "If Dean trusts you … and after what I've just been through …" she exhaled loudly. "But I'm still watching you."

"Hey, brother, I think she likes me," Benny laughed.

"He sort of grows on you," Cas whispered to Evie as he lovingly stroked her hair.

"OK, so on to more pressing matters …" Dean said.

"Right. Why would Crowley want more immortal humans?" Evie asked.

"Maybe he wasn't just going for humans," Benny suggested.

Dean shook his head. "Vampires who fed on infected hosts …"

"Can we call it something else, _anything_ else, besides infected? Please," Evie asked. "Like, _enhanced_?"

"OK. Vamps who fed on _enhanced_ blood went on uncontrolled feeding frenzies and ate themselves to death," Dean said.

"And, whatever did that is in your blood?" Benny asked.

"Yeah," Evie replied shortly.

"How come you didn't eat yourself to death?" Benny asked.

"I have no clue," Evie said.

"How did you control your thirst so fast?" Benny asked, partly curious and partly suspicious. "I was a wreck for months, years, even."

"I just didn't feel it anymore," Evie replied.

"Your thirst is gone?" Benny exclaimed.

Evie quietly shook her head.

"She is herself," Cas said with obvious relief. "Human."

"How is that possible?" Dean asked.

"Vampirism is like a virus, right?" Sam posited. "Well, what if whatever Crowley did to Evie is like a stronger virus?"

"You're saying there was a heavyweight fight inside her body, and Crowley's _enhancement_ won?" Benny asked skeptically.

"I don't know, maybe. Maybe it's chemistry," Sam said.

"Nerd," Dean said.

"Crowley said Evie was his best," Sam thought out loud, "better than the others. What if he's conducting experiments?"

"But why?" Cas asked. "He wants the human tablet and the prophet. Why _enhance_ humans with immunities?"

"Yeah, I mean, you'd think Crowley would want to destroy humanity, not make it stronger," Sam said.

"Well, maybe not," Benny said. "I mean, demons have to ride humans to walk around on Earth, right? Like your boy Crowley did with that nun back there. So, if he destroys all of you, there's no one left to ride."

"OK, so he needs a body for every demon, but that doesn't explain the immortality thing. As long as a demon's in a meat suit, the meat suit's immortal," Dean reasoned.

"Like I said, maybe it ain't just humans he's after," Benny suggested.

"Dean, we need to take a detour," Cas said.

"To where? We're going to the bunker. It's safe there," Dean said.

"We need to get the tablet and the prophet for before Crowley finds them, otherwise we can only guess at his intentions," Cas said.

"He's right," Sam agreed.

"And, do we really want a vampire in the bunker?" Evie asked.

"I told you you can trust him," Dean insisted.

"Look, all bad feelings and trust issues aside, if the Alpha Vamp has a psychic connection to all his children …" Evie began.

Sam and Dean shared a collective "Oh, shit" look.

"Do we really want the biggest and baddest of the big and bad knowing how to find that bunker?" she finished.

"Well, if I've learned one thing in a hundred some odd years of being a man, it's that women really do know best," Benny said.

"OK, then. Hey, isn't one of Rufus' cabins in Colorado?" Dean asked Sam.

"Yeah, somewhere in the Rio Grande National Forest, I think," Sam said.

"Dean, we must get to the tablet as soon as possible," Cas insisted.

"I know, Cas, but considering that we've been going non-stop for weeks, we've been to Hell and back, literaly, … we need to rest," Dean implored.

Evie hugged Cas tightly, resting her head on his shoulder, as Dean mentioned Hell.

"OK," Cas agreed. Without Evie hugging him tightly, he might have put up more of an argument.

"You came back from Hell and searched for me for weeks?" Evie whispered to Cas with a grin growing on her face.

"We helped, too!" Dean yelled.

"I know. Thank you," Evie said. She turned to Cas then, and they kissed for the first time in a month, although for both of them, it felt more like a year.

Dean watched in the rearview mirror and frowned. "I deserve a kiss," he pouted.

* * *

"It's about time," Benny said as they pulled up to a dark, lonely cabin in the woods. "I was beginning to think you boys didn't know where this fella's cabin was. He sure knows how to pick the spots."

"Yeah, good ole Rufus," Dean said fondly.

They walked into the cabin, which was unlocked, to a dank smell. Dean flipped on the light switch, and a lightbulb flickered on, spreading light across the dusty one-room kitchen/living room area.

"Generator still works," Sam said.

"Yeah, good ole Rufus," Dean said.

"Alright! A TV!" Benny exclaimed, hurrying to the tiny black-and-white set with a wide grin. "I like TV." He turned the knob, and a grainy zombie movie began to play on the screen. Benny quickly turned it off.

"Ugh, no zombies," Benny said, disgusted. "Give me the creeps."

"Zombies give you the creeps?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, they're filthy, undead corpses," Benny said.

"Benny, I hate to break it to you, but you're undead," Sam laughed.

"Yeah, but it's different," Benny said.

"Ha ha!" Dean laughed, pulling a blue bottle from a dusty cabinet. "Johnny Walker Blue. Rest in peace, Rufus." Dean managed to find four glasses he cleaned up by blowing into them and spreading dust around. Everyone gathered at the small kitchen table; Evie, Cas, and Benny sat, while Sam stood and Dean leaned on the kitchen counter. As if on cue, everyone downed their shot of very well-aged whiskey. Dean drank from the bottle.

"What creeps you out, Sam?" Benny asked as he stared thoughtfully at his empty glass.

"What, me? Nothing." Sam shrugged.

"Clowns," Dean revealed. "Creepy smiles, bad touches." He laughed and refilled their glasses.

"OK, Mr. I'm Scared of Witches," Sam teased. Evie laughed out loud, nearly spewing whiskey.

"They're always leaving chicken feet and fluids everywhere. It's gross!" Dean argued.

"Cas?" Benny asked.

"Me? I suppose I don't find any one creature particularly aversive," Cas answered.

Everyone chuckled.

"And, Evie, I guess I know what repulses you," Benny said, insinuating vampires and bringing down the mood.

"No, actually," Evie answered solemnly. "Now I understand just how hard it is to resist the call of blood. Impossible, really." She shared a respectful nod with Benny, an olive branch. Benny took it, nodding in return. "No, uh, I don't like shapeshifters. They shed like snakes. It's unsettling," Evie said.

"And unsanitary," Dean added.

"Well, on that note …" Evie giggled and swigged her last shot of whiskey. "Thank you. All of you." She hugged Dean, briefly but firmly; then, Sam. She shook Benny's hand. "Sweet dreams, boys."

Evie and Cas took one bedroom. Sam took the other. Dean slept on the couch, and Benny sat where he was, listening to the sounds of the night.

* * *

Dean woke the next morning to the sight of sunlight shining through hazy, old windows, the sounds of rustling in the kitchen, and the smell of fresh coffee. He rolled over groggily and saw Sam pouring two mugs of java.

"Morning," Dean greeted.

"Hey! How'd you sleep?" Sam asked.

"Like a freakin' rock. You?" Dean asked, taking the hot mug Sam brought him.

"Same. Hey, have you seen Benny?" Sam asked.

"Dude, I just got conscious. He's not here?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head. In the moment of silence, Dean noted a lack of sound. He didn't hear anything, not even birds chirping. "Must be out. Hunting," Dean said.

He sipped his coffee. "Oh, that's good! Is Evie still asleep?" Dean asked as he stood and crossed the room to the bathroom.

"Dean!" Sam called, but Dean had already opened the door and walked into a scene he wished he hadn't seen: Cas sat behind Evie in an excessively bubbly bubble bath in the large claw foot tub. The bathroom was sparse but somehow tasteful in design, if there was a design. The large tub took up most of the room and sat near a beautifully lit window. There was a toilet next to a simple pedestal sink; a mirrored medicine cabinet rose above it. Surprisingly, Rufus had left the cabin stocked: not only did the generator still work, but the bathroom featured full bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and bubble bath, bars of soap, and plenty of toilet paper.

Cas and Evie both turned at the sound at the door. Cas held a large book in his hands, and he was pointing to a specific line on the page.

"Good morning, Dean! Would you like to join us? We're studying Enochian!" Cas exclaimed.

"No, thanks!" Dean yelped and hurriedly shut the door. He covered his eyes and limped blindly toward the kitchen. "Dude!" he said to Sam. "Why didn't you warn me?"

"I tried," Sam said. "Just sit down. I'll make breakfast."

Sam started on the nearly expired cans of beans and sausages, and not long after, a clothed Evie and Cas joined the boys in the kitchen.

"Ugh, could you two lock the door next time?" Dean asked.

"Aai be ri nu lus da a ba ba la nu da," Evie said. She pronounced every word perfectly and added her own sassy tone.

Cas grinned, but Dean's disapproving glare killed the fun immediately.

"What'd she say?" Sam asked.

"It wasn't very nice," Cas whispered.

"What wasn't very nice?" Benny asked. He had come in through the front door unnoticed.

"Where were you?" Evie asked suspiciously.

"Grabbin' a bite," Benny said, making little effort to hide his bloody hands as he went to the sink to wash the blood off. "Had a bear of a breakfast." Benny smirked. "But I wouldn't turn down beans and franks."

"Great!" Eager to cut the tension, Sam turned his attention back to cooking.

"I'll get the prophet," Cas said and made the face he made when he was about to teleport. Dean always thought of it as his poop face.

"Hold on," Dean said. "You're gonna bring him here?"

"Yes. Well, _her_," Cas answered. "She'll be safest with us."

Cas took everyone's silence as agreement, although each face varied wildly. Dean and Evie shared a look of tension; both were ready for a fight, or flight, as might be the case. Sam looked hesitant but trusting. Benny simply looked intrigued, like he was a willing member of an audience.

_Flutter_.

Cas was gone and back in the blink of an eye. He returned with a hand on the shoulder of a short, overweight, black woman. She looked like a middle-aged mom, probably with kids in college. Her hair was curly, cut short, and the color of mahogany. She had a kind face, one with visible laugh lines.

When she appeared in the cabin, she seemed to be in the middle of doing something with her hands, possibly peeling an orange, but there was nothing there now. She paused in mid-peel, looking like a mime, and only her eyes moved over the faces in front of her and finally to the hand on her shoulder and the face it belonged to.

"Oh, Lord Jesus," she managed in a soft whisper. Then, she fainted.


End file.
